#I completely lost steam when I got to Link lol

[aanylah-101]

ZDINARSK HEADCANONS FULL PACK

FULL PACK OF ZDINARSK HEADCANONS AND CANONS

Enjoy Angels! 🕊🤍

HUMAN FORM HEADCANON

I don't have much to say about this but when Quaritch is watching the video of himself or his little memory card you can see a woman getting In of a link unit, here's the conversation, I got this off a website where I watch the movie so I will depict everything from what the subtitles say

Human Quaritch; "You're a recom now, Colonel..."

Human Quaritch; "Loaded with my memories and my charm"

Human Quaritch; "What you won't remember is my death...because It hasn't happened yet, and it aint gonna"

Lyle; "Damn right" 

Possibly Zdinarsk; "Hell yeah"

NOW I THINK this HAS to be Zdinarsk, why? Here's the second conversation, this is when Tysireya calls an ilu that's swimming by and swims away on it, and then the POV goes back up to Quaritch, Zdinarsk, Mansk, Kiri, & ofc Tuk.

Quaritch; "We can still get this done"

Zdinarsk; "Hell yeah" 

LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME THATS NOT ZDINARSK oh right! YA CANT

GUM CHEWING / EMOTIONAL EATING & EMOTIONAL EATER

So a while ago I saw something where there was a headcanon about how Zdinarsk chews gum as a way to calm herself down? And how she's an emotional eater, I actually love this one and credits to @roxynmae & @fictionsonmymind for this since they're like 10000% responsible for it. 

HEADCANON LINK <333

Here's an Idea! How about with her being an emotional eater she eats what she feels y'know? Maybe a sad food for her could be like something soft or simple to eat. Like soup or oatmeal, something like that! 

I looked this up afterward and look-

Maybe a food for when she's angry could be maybe a hot food, not steaming but not warm either. 

Maybe she chews her gum hard sometimes when she can't get to crunchy or tough foods,

Z being an emotional eater suits her, and her liking sweet things is cool too. She most likely chews her gum so that way she has a way to calm herself and maybe something to keep her busy. 

Also, her having anxiety could be a possibility, maybe she gets jittery so chewing gum maybe overwhelms the feeling that she has to move around.

ADHD maybe???

I can relate because when taking my state test or whatever It's called I couldn't stay still when sitting down for nearly 4-5 hours. Sure most wouldn't like that but trust me the person behind me was probably so p!ssed with me moving every 5 seconds lmao. 

Later on I did fall asleep and woke back up when testing was over,

ZDINARSKS FIRST NAME / NICKNAME

Once again this was inspired by a post I saw with headcanons/canons of the recom's names

I sadly lost the @ for this headcanon but If I find them I will update this and put their user! 

CREDIT LINK BASE - INCOMPLETE 

 like her first name! It's cute and her name has a meaning in Arabic! 

COPY AND PASTED! 

Origin: Arabic. Meaning:Date palm; date. Tamara is a feminine Arabic name meaning "date palm" or "date." Derived from the Biblical name Tamar meaning "date" or "palm tree," this sweet moniker is symbolic of the beauty and fruitfulness associated with this tree.

She is definitely fruity alright lol, for nicknames she already has 2. 

Z-dog and just Z 

Z-dog is clearly heard when Lyle is telling reassuring him his squad by their names, 

Z is heard near the end of the movie, 

Lyle tells Z to go to another part of the ship.

She looks so pretty In this scene to omfg 

TATTOOS

This one is confirmed completely so this is canon!

Zdinarsk has many colorful tattoos on her arms, neck, and chest. They include:

A chimera on her neck.

An eagle on her back with the Latin motto "AUT VINCERE AUT MORI" which means "conquer or die". It also has the number 33 which is known as an "angel number" that calls for people to cleanse their life and mind of negativity.

Her right arm has a skeleton reaper on the bottom and an angel on the top.

Her left arm has a snake wrapped around a skull with "DEATHLESS" on it. The bottom portion is the most difficult to interpret as it looks very Hindu in nature with many strange symbols.

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CONCEPT DESIGN

On the ATWOW fandom website on Zdinarsks page there is an art gallery of her character design

There is also another concept design, I believe It was called the art of avatar book. 

Ok so from the OG design of Zdinarsk, her tattoos didn't change, but something very noticeable is that

She has cargo military pants but In her approved design she has shorts instead. She acuatually changed pants 3 times in the movie, when she is first seen you can see her in the mirror when Quaritch first wakes up she has on the same pants as everyone else, it has Project Phoneix on the side but shortened to Phnx I think.

Also with this design she has a hat, sunglasses, I LOVE how her sunglasses sit on top of her hat it's so cute.

In the second concept design photo her shirt is shorter than the first concept photo and her official design,

she has on gloves as well, And for some who didn't know Walker has gloves attached to her pants as equipment, cute detail right?

In the trivia section of her page, It says that James Cameron asked for her to look like this! 

So there it is! Zdinarks hair is a mohawk!! I never minded her hair but something to know Is that the Na'vi DO NOT have those fades you have when getting a buzz cute or etc, but Quaritch does? 

ANGER ISSUES

So It was silently agreed that Zdinarsk had anger issues, but when she is angry she will never take it out on people purposely. I'd like to imagine that when Quaritch started swinging after he woke up Z was worried about him. The conversation:

Lab lady; "Get security!"

Zdinarsk; "Grab him!" 

IN THIS PART THERE IS SO MUCH RUKUS IM NOT CONFIRMING THIS FAR DOWN!

Zdinarsk; "Put him down!" OR "Hold him down!"

Zdinarsk; "Colonel! Calm down!"

She sounded so worried and scared when he started swinging, and how when Quaritch said he was alright she was the second to let him and before losing contact completely. 

A mini side-note is when Quaritch goes to punch his ikran, when he fell Spider, Lyle, Alexzander (or brown), & Zdinarsk were the first to run to the edge of the cliff

"Thats becuase everyone was farther back"

I DONT GIVE AF IT EVEN SAYS IN HER PROFILE THAT SHE WAS A LOYAL SOLIDER WHO STUCK BESIDE HIM SHE CARESSS

SEXUALITY & GENDER

Everyone knows Z HAS to be gay, I mean LOOK AT HER 

Definitely Lesbain, I would say Masc but I don't see that part in her honestly. 

Maybe Alpha lesbain? heres the meaning -->

COPY & PASTED FROM WEBSITE 

Top of the lesbian food chain and don't they know it! With their razor-sharp jawlines, and buckets of s$x appeal, alphas manage to turn heads wherever they go.

Of course, this is just ‼️another massive stereotype‼️. And while it might seem that alphas have been blessed with a gift from the gods, truth is, anybody can be an alpha.

The secret to being an alpha is confidence. There is nothing more attractive than someone who's comfortable in their own skin and knows what they want.

WEBSITE- FR CHECK THIS SITE OUT ITS COOL 

IKRAN DESIGN & COLOR 

I found images of Z's Ikran ITS RAINBOW!!!

I LOVE this detail! You can't tell me she's straight now

RELATIONSHIPS & DATING

This has 2 sections so enjoy yourself 

TOXIC RELATIONSHIP 

If Z was ever In this situation I feel like depending on who the person was or how she felt about them she would either be p!ssed off and be like "Whatever btch" and just push that person away. Or she would maybe be sad about how the person becomes different and she gets sad. 

THINGS NOT WORKING OUT 

Zdinarsk would completely understand, she would maybe still ask If you two could be friends though or check up on the person. BUT If you are being difficult she won't care.

For example, If you are going through something and refuse to let her help you (and let others help you) she would get mad and try her best to help you but If you are pushing her away continuously she might just break up with you or grow distant. 

You better PRAY to ewya btch that she doesn't start talking to somebody else cuz If she does you can kiss her goodbye. If she even lets you lmao 

(Hope this isn't to toxic...)

Thats kinda it lol

Last thing I wanna say about Zdinarsk is her body shape and the way she looks, she is so beautiful and pretty. Like look at her body view

+

I want to touch her thighs respectfully

Thank you for reading! And credit and sm love to the people I took Inspo from <333

This was so fun to make and I'm not even done talking about her

Friends; @dyingofcookies @multiversebaddie

#zdinarsk #Zdinarsk headcanons #Z-dog #miles quaritch #lyle wainfleet #Lesbain #awotw #avatar

[duckydrawsart]

Finished the six fanarts challenge! Thanks to everyone who sent in suggestions 😊

#I completely lost steam when I got to Link lol #my lack of effort may be obvious #six fanarts #tlou #treasure planet #httyd #bleach #peaky blinders #tloz #the last of us #how to train your dragon #the legend of zelda #ducky draws

[babygirldennis]

This shit is fake bby!!!

Here she is.. My masterpost of all the dumb, illogical bits of info contained within these s15 “leaks” that make me fairly confident they are complete bullshit. It also includes my little tinhat theories that have absolutely no evidence.

I will be putting it all under a Readmore in case you don't want to risk it or if you simply Do Not Care

First up, I'd like to point out that these call sheets repeatedly give very detailed backstories to characters that have few lines which conveniently paints a picture of each episode's plot. And I'm not an expert so correct me if I'm wrong, but after looking at other similar casting calls, they only ever include the demographic and necessary skills.

Basically who in their right mind would write up casting calls that give away so many spoilers? Seems like that could cause and issue if they were leaked lol. But anyway that's my 1st point. But onto the actual content

So the conceit of this episode as a whole is that during the pandemic, the gang "gamed the system" and received three (3!) Loans to start businesses that went bankrupt. One of these businesses is implied to be the one started by dee and charlie who end up selling to Qanon shaman. Already this is so impossible baby.

1. We've already seen the gang try to get a loan and it didn't work. They don't have good ideas. Ur telling me, they managed to finagle 3 separate loans for 3 separate business ideas from an actual bank?

2. Maybe I just have bad reading comprehension but how does one have a business that is both fictitious and bankrupt?

3. If the customer is supposed to be Qanon shaman, an actual real life guy, why are the only descriptors white and male? They say he's shirtless so are they going to paint on all of the tattoos he has? And if so, doesn't that kind of ruin the dramatic reveal when charlie "throws in" the viking helmet? Why would he do that anyways? Sus.

Moving on

Alright this episode would fucking blow for obvious reasons but im going to refrain from looking at this through my gay dennis thruther lens because im biased.

Purely from a narrative standpoint, a woman hasn't been shown to be interested in dennis in nearly 5 years during the wade boggs episode. Ever since, every single woman he approaches has been actively creeped out by him. And now I'm supposed to believe that 3 "smart, passionate woman" (In Their Twenties!!!!!!) agreed to go on a date with him? And Anna even slept with him! Just because he what? Agreed with her? I'm not buyin it.

Plus the concept of this scenario lacks any potential for comedy. When iasip gets political, they always discuss a very specific topic using hyperbolic situations and flawed metaphors. If this is supposed to be a political episode, what ultimately lukewarm point would rob be trying to make here? So far we know they're ranting about

The patriarchy

Privilege

Socialism

No more personal responsibility(?)

The... nature of power in society(??)

How on earth would an episode like get approved? This shit sounds like a Ted talk. It sounds like it was written specifically to sound like a political episode so boring and pointless it would generate outrage and mile long essay posts from Tumblr users and reddit users alike. Almost like this one lol.

On a completely unrelated note, do not try and convince me that Frank "casual cock ring wearer" Reynolds is unable to perform.

Jeez this is getting out of hand fast. Let's move on

Ok now we're starting to getting into the Ireland of it all. Let me go on a bit of a tangent here about all this.. Now I thinq there are just 3 possibilities. Either this is all a publicity stunt and there is some truth to the Ireland rumors, the entire thing could be bogus from some weirdo fan (ps, if a fan did write this I want you to know I fucking hate you. You did this to me), or it is a publicity stunt but Ireland is just more bullshit.

I am going to assume it was a publicity stunt, otherwise I just wasted my entire evening and I can't have that kind of mentality rn. Additionally, I'm Going to tinhat here for a second and say that the Ireland rumors are true, but the details are different.

I say this because if they were going to do filming in Ireland, they probably figured that that information would be impossible to hide. In essence, my completely unfounded hypothesis is that this leak was their fucked up little way of controlling the situation while simultaneously messing with us.

Ok tangent is over, returning to the casting calls. From the looks of it, dee starts a "scam" acting class and has some very devoted students (Note that Tony was also the name of the porn shop owner. Seems weird!) Presumably after the gang replaces her with a monkey as the title suggests.

Honestly, there isn't too much here that's a red flag to me... seems like a nice little dee-centric episode that is the link to the Dublin angle. Assuming I am At All right, this could be a genuine plotline for Dee. However, the monkey could be a red herring and there could be a whole different side plot with the guys. who's to say. Next one!

Ah yes this is the dennis we all know and despise.. no red flags for me here really, I'm also running out of steam because idk if it shows, but I am majorly sleep deprived atm. Anyway I'm going to the next one

Okay this is where things start getting weird again ough a migraine just hit, anyway back to my earlier point about how casting calls would never contains major spoilers bc the people who see these wont be under any kind of NDA..

These ones reveal that bonnie dies. Again, that info wouldn't be in a casting call.

But also they suggest charlie has a irish penpal named Shelley who is his biological father. First off charlie is illiterate, although as pointed out by @undeadbreeze shelley could also be communicating in symbols. However, this scenario is still unbelievable to me for a couple reasons:

1. Bonnie's last name is Kelly obviously, and we know it's her maiden name because Jack's last name is also Kelly. But Shelley's last name is... also Kelly? In the context of this big ol hoax, it feels like it was written to show that look! his last name is the same as charlie's! That's how you know that's his dad! But It would be way too big of a coincidence if charlie's dad happened to have the same last name bonnie.

And 2. There's the whole mystery of charlie's long-lost sister from 'charlie got molested' but never any mention of a brother which according to this, shelley has been pretending to be his brother for years. And we all know how much rcg loves their continuity, it seems uncharacteristically lazy to just tack this on without any prior buildup.

And finally let me talk about mac for a second and specifically the line in gus's summary "both are gay men who are attracted to the priesthood for all the wrong reasons"

Iasip has commented on pedophilia in the priesthood many times in the past which leads me to believe that they are implying that mac is a pedophile? Please let me know if I completely misread the implications of that statement, but if not, then that is completely insane and one of the biggest indictators that this is fake. Mac is awful, just like everyone in the gang but he is definitely not a pedophile.

However even if i did completely misread that, it's still proof this is fake.. For all his faults, Rob put a surprising amount of care and effort into mac's coming-out. It hasn't been perfect, but Mfhp in particular firmly established that mac's faith is integral to his identity so Its unlikely that rob would throw all of that away for a cheap shot at priests.

Ok my brain is irradiated sludge at this point, but in conclusion. I hope that 1. I'm right, at least about it being fake (Otherwise damb that'll be so humiliating for me) And 2. This eases ur fears a bit. I don't want to lose all faith in future seasons bc I love iasip and miss the gang. If you read this far youre insane but I literally love you so goddamn much because I spent so so long tapping this out on my silly little phone

Please feel free to add on or message me your thoughts and opinions I need to know I'm not the only one who uhhh went a bit insane. And finally: whoever made these is a cunt. Mwah.

#iasip #s15 spoilers #oy vey..... #they could also be written by a reddit fan who is too much of a pussy to just write fanfic but that seems kinda unlikely? #cause 1. itll be disproven so everyone will know u just... wrote weird fanfic #and 2. there are a lot of little details that are so random that even if this is a fan just messing with people.... why put in so much effo #wahtever im pressing post #actually tho what gge fuck is that priest line supposed to imply #i guess for mac it could be talking about his view that god smites enemies and u must fear him blah blah #i jus don't know what it was supposed to imply about gus!!! #bc they describe gus like he is fat mac with healthy views on the bible which :] #then that last line just gives me whiplash what does that mean!!

[august-anon]

We Like It

Y’all voted Geraskier for today so here is some Geraskier lol

This was prompted by an ask from like a YEAR ago, now, and I finally finished the fic a month or two ago, and I’ve finally remembered to post it. I hope it’s worth the wait lol, and also I am Unbelievably sorry for making you wait so long to see this come to fruition lol. Thank you for your patience, I hope you’re still hanging around my blog to see this, anon!

pt1 of this series 

pt2 of this series

[ao3 link to this series]

----

Fandom: The Witcher

Ship(s): Geraskier

Characters (lee/ler): Ler!Geralt/Lee!Jaskier

Word Count: 1973 words

Summary: Geralt wants to test out a few things that Jaskier showed him the other day, and it just so happens that he's decided to make Jaskier his test subject.

[ao3 link]

-------------------------------------

They were staying with Yennefer for a few days as Geralt handled a particularly tricky contract, which of course meant living in the lap of luxury. Steaming baths that never cooled, rich and hearty meals, soundproofed rooms, fluffy beds that you just melted into, it was everything Jaskier was missing; and while Geralt pretended he couldn’t care less, Jaskier knew he was enjoying the brief stint of luxury as well.

The contract for the curse finally handled, they had one more night in their wonderfully soft bed before Geralt wanted to head out on the road again, so they took advantage of it while they could. 

They took one of those steaming baths, smelling sweet and fresh, and returned to their bed, smooth, fresh sheets awaiting them, changed on the daily. They stripped down to only their smallclothes to head to bed. Yennefer’s wards meant they would be kept safe enough that they needn’t worry about monsters or ambushes, so they could experience the full cuddling experience, all that warm skin soothing the touch-starved itch they both carried.

But even as Jaskier climbed into bed, prepared to hold his witcher close and relax, Geralt did not follow. Instead, he stared at their packs in the corner, humming thoughtfully.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined. “I’m cold, come here.”

Geralt hummed again, walking over to their packs and rummaging through them briefly as Jaskier continued to whine and moan about the lack of cuddles currently happening. He immediately brightened when Geralt finally made his way toward the bed, sliding onto it and pulling Jaskier close.

“What did you need that could possibly be more important than me?” Jaskier teased, burrowing into Geralt’s side.

“A weapon.”

Jaskier sat up, bewildered. “A weapon? You’ve brought a weapon into our bed? Geralt, why could you possibly need--”

Jaskier cut himself off with a yelp as Geralt rolled over and on top of him, straddling his hips. His hands were quickly gathered up in one of Geralt’s and pinned above his head. In the moments it took Jaskier’s brain to process this, Geralt pulled his “weapon” out from behind his back and brandished it at Jaskier.

Jaskier’s own feather quill.

Jaskier sucked in a breath, already feeling his cheeks beginning to burn. “Now, Geralt,” he tried, squirming under him, “let’s talk about this.”

“You taught me some valuable information the other day,” Geralt said. “I’m just trying to see it in practice.”

Jaskier started giggling prematurely as the feather started looming ever-closer, butterflies swarming in his stomach. “You saw it in practice when I used it on you!”

“And now I’m going to see it in practice on you.”

Geralt started easy, thankfully, touching the feather down on one of Jaskier’s exposed shoulders and slowly brushing it towards his neck. Jaskier was able to keep his composure until the feather started trailing up the side of his neck, and his face crumpled and scrunched up trying to hold his laughter at bay.

He’d never been very good at that.

All it took was a particularly deliberate wiggle of the tip of the feather behind his ear and Jaskier cracked, tumbling into bubbly giggles. He didn’t bother trying to defend himself by scrunching up or trapping the feather, Geralt always found a way around his meager defenses, so he simply squirmed around on the bed to satisfy the urge to do so.

Geralt twisted the feather in his ear, much like Jaskier had done to him barely a week ago, and he went from cracked to shattered. That tickled more than Jaskier ever in his life imagined it could, and he wouldn’t even call his neck and ears bad spots! Jaskier shrieked at the soft tickling and jerked away, finally trying to escape for real.

“Geralt,” he cried through his giggles, becoming ever more high-pitched. “Geralt. No!”

Geralt simply hummed above him and moved to give his neck and ears the same treatment on the other side. It was pure torture in the best of ways, Jaskier both loving it and wanting it to stop immediately. Geralt was unfairly good at this for someone who tickled someone for the first time ever barely a month ago.

“I love your laugh,” Geralt said quietly, probably hoping Jaskier wouldn’t hear him over his squeaks and wild giggles.

“I love yours more!” Jaskier squealed as he jerked away from a brush of the feather against the shell of his ear.

“Well,” Geralt said, voice light and teasing, “I never said you had good taste.”

Jaskier let out an affronted noise that turned into an odd keening-giggle as Geralt began dragging the feather down the delicate skin of his upper arm, aiming for his armpit. He foolishly tugged at his arm, but Jaskier should’ve known better. He was no match for a witcher’s strength.

“Geralt, come on!”

“Why?” And oh, Jaskier loved to hate that wicked grin. “You like this.”

And by this point, it was no longer a question. It was a simple statement. Jaskier wasn’t sure which was worse, but he definitely felt his cheeks flush under Geralt’s gaze. They flushed even further -- though this time with laughter -- as the feather touched down in Jaskier’s armpit.

“Seeing this in practice is truly quite interesting.”

“Shut up--shit!”

Jaskier tossed his head back in loud laughter as Geralt dropped the feather and dug his fingers into Jaskier’s highest rib. Using that distraction, Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s wrists from where he had them trapped and pulled them down, pinning them under his knees. Jaskier’s stomach filled with butterflies as he realized Geralt now had two hands free to torment him with.

“You enjoy testing things on me, I should return the favor. Tell me, bard: which is worse?”

And then Geralt picked up the feather with one hand and readied his fingers on the other, sending both careening for his stomach. Jaskier tried to suck his stomach in, as if that would save him, but the second Geralt touched down, it was a lost cause as he started laughing again.

Geralt scratched to the side of his belly button with his free hand, his blunt fingernail making Jaskier’s nerves light up an unfair amount. On the other side of Jaskier’s belly button, he fluttered the feather in the mirrored spot, making Jaskier wish he had more room to thrash for his freedom. Each sensation was completely maddening and unbearable in it’s own way, and Jaskier didn’t know if he wanted to escape or let it go on forever.

“Well?”

“The feather!” Jaskier cried after a few more moments. “The feather!”

Geralt hummed thoughtfully and Jaskier squealed as the feather took a brief trip inside Jaskier’s belly button before Geralt found his next target: Jaskier’s hipbones. He scooted down to sit on Jaskier’s thighs to reach them, but his legs were unfortunately still long enough to keep Jaskier’s hands pinned easily. On one side, fingertips vibrated deeply into the skin and muscle, making Jaskier near-howl. On the other, the feather danced across the sharp bone with its maddeningly-light touch. 

Jaskier was thankful that Yennefer had the foresight to soundproof her rooms. Tomorrow would be quite the embarrassing morning, otherwise.

“And here?” Geralt asked, emphasizing his question by intensifying the tickling on both sides.

“Fingers!” Jaskier shrieked.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?) that made Geralt drop the feather and start vibrating his now-freed fingers into the other hip. Then Jaskier was really howling, trying to buck his hips but being unable to get the leverage needed to do so. He could try and sit up to curl in on himself for protection, but Jaskier had the feeling that his ab muscles weren’t really looking to cooperate with how hard he was currently laughing.

After some minutes of that playful torture, Geralt picked up the feather quill once more. He danced and fluttered it along Jaskier’s pantline, making his eyes bulge out of his skull at the gentle touch. He choked out a mix of a squeal and a giggle, making Geralt let out a rumbling chuckle above him.

Then, as Geralt was searching for his next spot, the impossible happened: Jaskier finally managed to wiggle his hands free. They launched out from under Geralt’s knees, shooting directly for Geralt’s hands. Geralt tried to fight them off, but Jaskier managed to capture Geralt’s hands and interlace their fingers, the feather fluttering uselessly to the bed next to them.

“What now, tough guy?” Jaskier teased, though the effect was likely diminished by the fact that he was panting for breath.

Geralt furrowed his brow in thought and Jaskier’s heart fluttered. He sent an appraising look to Jaskier’s stomach before starting to lean down, and Jaskier started squealing before he even got close.

“Wait--wait, wait, no! Geralt, please, anything but that!”

Geralt chuckled. “I thought you liked fruit,” he said.

And then Jaskier was lost to wheezing cackles as Geralt took a deep breath, lowered his mouth to Jaskier’s stomach (right on his sensitive belly button) and blew. It tickled like all hell. In fact, it tickled worse than any raspberry had any right to, thanks to Geralt’s stubble.

“You need to shave!” Jaskier shouted through his laughter.

Geralt let out a little “oh” of realization before diving back in for another raspberry, but this time shaking his head as he blew. The result was a screaming Jaskier, tears of mirth being squeezing from his eyes, as his stomach vibrated with ticklish sensations, got scraped by stubble, and even got tickled by feather-light brushes of hair that had fallen from Geralt’s half-hearted styling.

After a few more of those wonderfully hellish raspberries, Geralt pulled back.

“I want to try something,” he said.

Jaskier let out an incredulous laugh, having nothing to do with his residual giggles. “Let me catch my breath first, darling. Shit.”

“Did I go too far?”

Jaskier shook his head. “No, no. You were wonderful, dear heart, I just need a moment. Not sure how much I have left in me, either.”

Geralt hummed.

After a few moments, his breath having returned, Jaskier nodded. “What is it you wanted to try?”

Geralt climbed off Jaskier’s legs, lifting one up into the air. Jaskier furrowed his brow, but his eyes then went wide as Geralt brushed a hand over his inner thigh before leaning in slightly and looking to Jaskier for permission.

“Oh fuck,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Alright, but stop when I tell you.”

Geralt nodded, and then his lips were swiftly attached to Jaskier’s inner thigh as he blew a raspberry. Jaskier’s laughter went silent almost immediately, the sensations so overwhelming that he couldn’t even make a sound. He howled and screamed, but no sound left his lips to indicate his tortured state. After a few small raspberries dotted across his thigh, Geralt shifted himself for a better angle and gave a repeat performance on his untouched leg.

Jaskier was able to stand it until Geralt began digging tickling fingers into whatever thigh wasn’t currently being targeted by his lips. As much fun as it all was, it was too much for him to take. He slapped his hand against the bed a few times, and Geralt immediately stopped. Jaskier panted desperately for breath as Geralt firmly rubbed away the remaining tingles from his mouth and fingers.

“Alright?”

Jaskier laughed. “Alright?” He asked. “Alright?! I’m fucking incredible, dear. Now, come down here and cuddle me. I’m going to fall asleep at any moment now.”

Geralt did as he was told, shuffling back up the bed and laying next to Jaskier, pulling the furs and bedsheets over the top of them. They exchanged a few chaste goodnight kisses until Jaskier was too drowsy to even move his lips in response anymore, and settled down against the expensive pillows to finally rest.

Jaskier’s revenge could easily wait until the morning.

#tickle fic #My writing #the witcher tickling #lee!jaskier #ler!geralt #ticklish!jaskier #the witcher #jaskier | dandelion #geralt of rivia #geraskier

[ruluxe]

Hello! Your Aoki fic 'Picture Perfect' brought me to your socials because it's ah-mazing and I would love to read it's completion, but when when I went to the post with the google drive links, it says access denied? Keep writing and bLESS YOU🥺💕

Hey there! I just want to say thank you so much for coming here and reading my works, I really appreciate it! It's very sweet of you to drop a comment in my inbox like this 🧡.

In terms of completion, about a year ago when I began updating I got really sick, and I've been managing my illness since then, as well as work/personal life so I unfortunately haven't had much time to work on it since. I had gotten into aokaga again, so I wrote a bit for them but then lost steam when I got sick again earlier this year so I've been trying to recover from that and burnout. I really do plan on finishing it, even if it's years from now lol. As for why the rewritten chapters on the Google doc have been restricted, I got some not so nice comments on it and decided to keep it away from the public until I finished it entirely. I think there may only be 4 chapters there, but if you're interested in reading them and comfortable with giving me your email, I can try giving you access. But if you'd rather wait, don't worry - hang in there! I will finish it one day, I promise 💙💛

#ru.replies #fujoshitings #aokise #thank you again for the comment! its super sweet of you xo

[incomprehensiblelentils]

@dollsome-does-tumblr​ does this and opened it up to anyone and I am feeling chatty today SO!

Because I co-write a lot with my lovely wife, I might answer some questions including those co-written stories, or I might not, depends on how I feel when I get there.

name:

Megan but I go by Lentils most places on the internet, Shadowcrawler over on AO3

fandoms:

at the moment: MCU, especially Agents of SHIELD and Daredevil; Terminator: Dark Fate; Halt and Catch Fire. Oh and I wrote Dollhouse fanfics a thousand years ago. Sometimes I will watch a movie/show and think “those two girls should be gay” and bang out 2k of fic about it and then never write for that fandom again. (I THOUGHT this was going to be HACF but as it turns out, no, it’s not done with me yet.)

where you post:

AO3, at Shadowcrawler. I also have a tumblr @lentils-writes​ where theoretically I post links to fics/advertise them in the tags, because I used to be real precious about not putting porn on this blog, but fuck it.

most popular multi-chapter fic:

Co-written, it’s definitely mallverse, which is I think the reason most writers definitely hate us because it’s very long and there are a lot of tags lmao. The problem is that every tagged character HAS shown up in a significant fashion at some point so we can’t just...untag them! It doesn’t update weekly anymore because we’re exhausted by life lmao so at least there’s that???

As for a multi-chapter fic that was just me, I don’t tend to do that so much, so actually it’s say you will, my 3-chapter Endgame fix-it where Clint dies instead of Natasha and Natasha and Laura have a past. It actually has over 1000 hits which is very exciting! I feel like it’s...niche in a way that is frustrating but understandable lol. I put a lot of my heart into it and some people really liked it, so that’s gratifying.

favorite story you’ve written so far:

Co-written, I think our SHIELD Dollhouse AU is very underrated for the amount of work we put into it. Author bias evident here because I love Dollhouse warts and all, and it’s a lot of fun translating episode plots as well as the general trajectory of the show into stuff that will work with SHIELD characters. We don’t just rewrite episodes, we really try and rework them as needed. Also it features both Skimmons and my beloved rarepair Bobbi/Kara, though of course they won’t get together until later.

Of my own stuff, I’m still really really proud of the AU where Kara Palamas didn’t die. I think that was a pretty severe misstep of the show and I think I did a good job of fixing it. (I haven’t forgotten Kara, promise!)

fic you were nervous to post:

lolololol I wrote some uh. Terminator pornography last year and. They are very porny! I had co-written a bunch of smut obviously, but that was the first time I’d posted like, PWP all by myself on purpose??? and that was TERRIFYING. Also I was very nervous to post the Engame fix-it because that was my own personal goodbye/tribute to Natasha.

how you choose your titles:

They are always either song lyrics or jokes (such as Three Lawyers and a Baby, my Daredevil Accidental Baby Acquisition fic). My WIP docs are always titled either obvious shit like “RoseJannah horse girls” or memes like “what if we belonged to a fire cult and we fucked haha just kidding unless...?” or “Morgan has two mommies.”

do you outline?:

B and I typically outline for the co-written fics, although it’s more often chapter-by-chapter outlines since that’s how we write them. On occasion we’ve fully planned multi-chapter stuff out in advance but that’s less common. Oh and the one-shots are nearly always outlined as well, just to keep ourselves organized.

When I have written planned multi-chapter fics in the past I have used outlines - particularly for the Kara one and I had to do that for the SHIELD Kill Bill AU because I was trying to follow the format of the movie. For things that are allegedly supposed to be one-shots I almost never outline, which turns out to be a terrible idea when they inevitably balloon beyond my control and become 45k like say you will. That one, I wrote out a list of scenes I thought needed to be in it and then I wrote about 75% of those scenes and then I wrote a bunch more scenes I hadn’t planned for. Don’t be like me, kids!

complete fics:

According to AO3, 89 as of right now. Uh, you do not want me to list all of them, here’s a link, I guess!

in progress:

I don’t understand what the difference is between this question and the WIP questions lmao help????

posted WIPs that I have active plans to continue at this time:

Cowritten: mallverse as I said, and its femslash smut oneshots spinoff and character flashbacks spinoff and older characters/teachers spinoff (these get updated, uh, irregularly), the first half of a Piper/Snowflake SHIELD s7 fic that we are planning on finishing the second half of soonish, SHIELD Dollhouse AU, SHIELD Teen Beach AU, SHIELD Buffy AU. You may notice a pattern!

By myself, I have: Have Your Elf a Merry Little Christmas, a Terminator Hallmark Christmas fic that I ambitiously posted the first chapter of in 2019 and then lost steam immediately (I am going to go back to it sooner or later bc I had some cute ideas for it); the SHIELD Fate of the Furious AU that has one chapter to go and which I do intend on finishing eventually; Three Lawyers and a Little Lady, the Daredevil Accidentally Baby Acquisition AU that is literally just cute kidfic and poly avocados and which I have a bunch of ideas for and just need to buckle down and finish some.

posted WIPs that I have given up on:

Lol so there’s a Dollhouse Caroline/Bennett Doctor Who AU that I wrote purely as idfic and which nobody ever cared about except me, and I think that ship has sailed! RIP darlings. I also had an ongoing Skimmons series waaaay back when where I posted oneshots that were like missing scenes or gay readings for each s1 episode, and I just feel like it would be inauthentic to even try and finish it at this point. (It does include the first ever Skimmons fic to be posted on AO3! Really truly, there’s one fic that shows up as older but it’s an ongoing fic and was updated with the tag way after I posted mine.)

exchange fics due soon/unrevealed:

I haven’t done an exchange since like 2015 lololol I am so bad at them. I am currently working on finishing up my MCU Femslash bingo card, very late, and I do have plans for almost all of the remaining squares!

WIPs that live in my fanfic folder and are incomplete and who knows when they’ll be finished:

“RoseJannah horse girls,” which has been put on hold temporarily but is literally just Rose and Jannah being gay while riding orbaks

half of a Daisy/Gwen fic from Marvel Rising because I know they’re not making any more of those but I stg those two were really gay

multiple fics about Elise Nelson-Page including: avocados Halloween with smol Elise, Aunt Elektra very reluctantly taking smol Elise shopping until she realizes smol Elise also likes weapons (she buys her a fake katana), Uncle Frank is a pushover and spoils the shit out of Elise, and baby Elise has a high fever and everyone freaks out but then she gets better and smile at them for the first time (inspired by baby me lol).

coming soon/not yet started:

“Morgan has two mommies,” yet another Endgame fix-it where Maya Hansen did not die in Iron Man 3 and she resurfaces and she and Pepper kiss and eventually she adopts Morgan

Claire and Colleen go on a nice date to get coffee/tea where Danny doesn’t interrupt them goddammit

Bobbi/Kara Warehouse 13 AU which is sort of like “For the Team” but gayer ft. grappling hook

X-Men: Evolution Tabby/Amara fluff

Cameron/Donna character study disguised as smut

Grace proposes to Dani with a ring made out of the metal from her power source and Carl officiates the wedding 

Dani gets horny watching Grace eat a peach and jerks off and Grace ends up hearing her and then they fuck (I have been calling this “the peach fic” in my head but I gotta stop being delicate about it lmfao it is just porn)

B and I have plans to do a Nico/Karolina Jasper in Deadland AU but we keep forgetting

I MUST WRITE FOGGY AND KAREN SADLY FUCKING IN A CHURCH WHILE THEY MOURN MATT THIS YEAR I STG

do you accept prompts:

uhhhhhh I have on occasion written a prompt for someone before but it’s pretty rare and I have enough trouble writing the shit I come up with in my own head lol. but never say never?

upcoming story you are most excited to write:

I’ve got a bit of the Bobbi/Kara Warehouse fic written and it’s nice to go back to that world. Also I’m weirdly excited about the Cam/Donna smutty character study I mentioned above, I have a lot of what I think are good ideas for it and it’ll be fun.

tagging @unwind-myself @swiftzeldas @swashbucklery @loved-the-stars-too-fondly and, if you want to, you!

#sometimes I write things

[deltastorm101]

So, I tried to calculate Control...

... and its Epic Games deal, with the help of my certified smooth brain™ and probably incorrect sources. I started this last night hella tired and with a headache, I have finished it up today hella tired and with a headache, and this is what I produced: bullshit! :D But hey, at least double checked bullshit that’s open for discussion and contribution and expansion. Also, I probably won’t list the sources because a) I’m lazy and b) I didn’t have to dig thaaat deep down to find all this so if you really wanna know you could probably hit google with it as well. Anyhow here we go lol So, the initial thought which got all of this rolling was the 2020-wrap-up-post Remedy linked on their twitter, and Epic’s linked publishing announcement in it: studios Remedy, Playdead and GenDesign will release their next next-gen games with Epic. Now, we all know Remedy are working on some sort of Alan Wake-ish thing as we speak (right? right?? god I hope so), which meanssss our boy will most likely be an Epic exclusive. Which makes me kinda sad because, well. I’m deep in Steam’s ass. Hell, I waited for Control for a full year before I played it because they can pry the Steam version from my cold dead hands. So I asked myself... was it worth it for them? How much money did they throw at Remedy (and 505 Games) to have them play along? Would they have reached more people from the get-go if they had released it on Steam right away? Did the individual programmer, designer, writer, artist, person behind it profit from this at all? (Also, like, about the rights and copyright thing,,,,, you’d think they could have learned from Alan Wake and its IP belonging to Microsoft and so not really being able to do anything more with it because they don’t ‘own’ it and shit) buuut anyway that’s not the point of this post, now it’s time to do some MATH BABEY

Ok, let’s start with some things we know. Facts. Figures. Data. Turns out my initial question, how much money was involved, could be answered by doing one (1) google search: according to Wikipedia, Epic gave Remedy and 505 Games €9.49mio. The total budget for the game was €26.9mio over the course of 3 years of development. We know that as of December 2020, over 2mio copies of the game were sold, with November 2020 being the best-selling month ever since its initial release in August 2019. This is where question 1) comes into play: how many of those 2 million copies were sold in 2019 and how many in 2020? Stay tuned, I think I found out.

We know that Remedy gets to keep 45% of the revenue, which, I assumed, means that 505 keeps the remaining 55% (probably a lot more going on there but shhh). We know that Control’s sales cooked up €17.84mio in 2019 (so months September – December), €17.7mio of those in the first month alone (O.O). Side note: because it came out at the very end of August, I’ll ignore that month and declare September the first sales month.

We know that 60% of sales in 2019 were digital ones (aka Epic Store, mostly), 40% physical ones (consoles PS4 and XB1), while in 2020, only 10% of sales were physical and a whopping 90% digital; which is people on Epic who wanted to get their hands on the first DLC and – you guessed it – the Steam release of the Ultimate Edition in August 2020.

Which begs question 2): what’s bigger, 60% of 2019 sales because ‘ooh shiny new game’, or 90% of 2020 sales because ‘yay steam release’? The answer may look obvious, but you have to take into account the dropping price, which I also researched for your pleasure and enjoyment.

For this I used a German website called idealo.de, which focuses on looking for the best deals for basically anything you can buy on the internet, and it also gives you diagrams that describe at which point in time the product was at which exact price. This is what it gave me: - release price: €60 - December 2019: €41 (PS4)/€44 (XB1) - mid-2020: €30 - Ultimate Edition release: €30 - December 2020: €14 (PS4)/€18 (XB1)/€30 (Ultimate Editions) At this point I was like “lol hold on i need chocolate for this cuz i’ll be here for some time *sweating*”

To continue this mess™, I see more questions: 3) How many employees does Remedy have, which positions do they work in and what are their salaries? 4) How many employees does 505 have, which positions and salaries do they have? 5) What’s the total revenue that Control has generated so far?

And also some more stuff like, are my numbers accurate, am I even grasping these concepts correctly, are there even more people involved or am I just trying to explain complete crap (yes) but let’s just ignore all of that shall we. At that point I went “oh shit what have i gotten myself into, this screen does not get my point across, i need pen and paper” and you know shit is gonna go DOWN when I do math on paper.

My paper math birthed the following calculation:

Following this up, we can calculate the end-of-2019 sales, if we set the price for September and October to €60, for November and December to approx. €45:

Now, you might notice that one of those numbers is big and the other is HUGE. Why might that be? Well...

- Covid19: everyone stayed at home and needed video games to play - More sale months of the year, naturally - dropping price: why get it for €60 when you can get it for 20 - Ultimate Edition: why buy it in June when you get more content in August aaaand... - it comes out on Steam.

With this in mind, let’s see what questions we can answer: 1) 661,110 copies in 2019; 1,338,889 copies in 2020 2) 60% digital sales in 2019 means 396,666 Epic copies; 90% digital sales in 2020 means 1,205,000 copies – most of it from Steam? Some of it? A good chunk? The bigger chunk? There’s no way of really knowing for sure but... you could read this into it. I definitely am. 3) Google told me Remedy had a little over 250 employees at the end of 2019... 4) ... and 505 has less than 100. I found no good sources for this, I think linkedin said 37, someone else said 50. I’ll just use the 50 figure, idk. No idea man. and for 5) I’ll contradict my point that the Steam release is what knocked the sales out of the park and assume that the number of sold copies stayed the same across all 12 months of 2020, which gives us this:

Ok and now we’re getting into the most dangerous of danger zones because I have no idea how companies or capitalism work, so for educated people™, the remaining calculations might read like a toddler wrote them; I apologize profusely and hereby present last night’s brain vomit:

As stated earlier, development took 3 years, but everyone wanted to get paid in 2020 as well so let’s use 4 years to find out the salaries, which is 48 months. Let’s assume the utopian idea that every employee on the line here gets the exact same amount of money (LOL ikr but shhhh, let’s live out our dirtiest equality fantasies for a second ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)). Which would mean...

And now without the Epic Deal™:

Quod erat demonstrandum. Remedy has been selling their souls to Epic for €350 a month since 2017. (I don’t mean this as maliciously as I’m making it sound, don’t worry xD)

OKAY SO, O B V I O U S L Y, I have not the slightest idea what on earth I’m talking about so read this like you’d read a good fanfiction. We don’t know the different salaries across the different positions (and genders HAH), we don’t know if other parties were involved, I’ve completely ignored the sum that Epic themselves get, I have ignored taxes, I don’t know if my numbers are accurate (they’re definitely not I mean 505 must have more employees than 50), if I made mistakes (yes), and also somewhere along the way I forgot to use the €26.9mio budget figure because, uuh, I have no idea where to use it, what it means, where did it come from, where did it go, cotton eye joe - but oh well, I’m not starting over, take it or leave it.

So... I can now officially say I have written hot steamy economics fic xD Man I put waaay too much time into this but damn was it fun. Good three-hour-deep-dive (two of them spent munching on chocolate half-asleep listening to psytrance to keep my brain twitchy). Real-life-theorizing. Fuck capitalism. Don’t do drugs. Pet a cat. Wear your mask. Call your grandparents.

If there’s typos in this I’m sorry but also I’m not, I can’t be bothered to proofread again lol. Goodnight imma catch up on the sleep I lost. Gotta love full moons

#this is the first post in ages in which i used punctuation and capitalization are you proud of me xD #dw it won’t stay like this #control #control remedy #alan wake #ok now go yell at me how stupidly wrong and dumb this is i’m ready #do you think my old math teacher would be proud #i think so #my economics teacher... not so much

[capmackie]

no sleep for the wicked

Bucky,

I pray this letter finds you well — it’s been so long, so very damn long. 

I know you’re wondering how I possibly could’ve gotten your address — I’m surprised myself, to be honest, you really did not want to be found lol. I must say, you’ve done a helluva job of keeping yourself off of the grid but I can’t say I’m surprised; if James Buchanan Barnes made his mind up to do something, it was good as done.  I’ve always admired that about you. But if you taught me, anything brother, it’s to take life in my own hands, craft my own destiny and after 10 years, 86 days, 14 hours, and 56 minutes of searching, I’m finally sending this letter off.  I don’t know what I’m expecting out of this but I’m here to ask you to come back home Bucky. I hope that you know that you are missed — shit man. We never expected you to leave and never once thought you’d stay away for so long after that. Nothing could ever take your place here, not even me.  If only for a weekend, please come back.  P.S. — can I still call you Bucky?

Love,  Steve ——————— The smell of coffee is the only thing in the world that can possibly rouse Sam Wilson out of his fitful sleep. Even then, it takes James Rhodes placing the mug directly in Sam’s face for the sheriff to even stir. Long nights at the Handonsville’s Sheriff Department will do that to you. It’s a deep roast, made by some kind of hipster brand that Sam can’t even pronounce and is *too damn expensive* if you ask him, but it gets the job done. And the job needs to be done, unfortunately. What went from an absolutely rarity of Sam staying overnight to work on a case has become a constant in his life. And Sam’s loves constants. He loves a routine, loves order and predictability; loves waking up every morning at 5:45am, going on his morning jogs and greeting the early risers of the town — Mrs. Carter down at the library, Mr. Barnes who own the local meat shop, loves making it back at his cramped apartment at 6:15, not a minute later. And as much as Sam loves the constants in his life, he will never get comfortable with the sudden constant-ness of the disappearances in his town. No matter how many times it happens, no matter how each disappearance closely mirrors the one before it, no matter the same sad looks on each one of the missing person’s families' faces, the collective dread they all seem to share when they come into the office to report that their son, daughter, sister, cousins hasn’t been home in over 24 hours. No, he’ll never get used to that, no matter how constant. Sam stretches, feels his body protest fervently against the position he slept in, hears his bones cracks as he stretches. At only 30 years old, Sam already knows he’s getting too old for this shit. His body continues to groan in protest as he wearily stands, stretching his arms and back once more before grabbing his coffee to take a look at the ‘Missing Persons’ board. He’s been in the station since last night, pouring hours into a case file — which doubled as his pillow, to make some sense of the mysterious disappearance of one Casey Johnson. So deep into the file, Sam didn’t even bother to make the ten-minute trek back to his place, eventually just giving in and sleeping at the office. Casey Johnson was the latest victim in what seemed to be a never-ending cycle of disappearances in the small town. Nothing about Johnson was similar to the case before him; he was young, two weeks removed from graduating from high school. He was a good kid, a little on the dopey side but kind-hearted nonetheless. Anyone who knew Johnson knew he wouldn’t hurt a fly and that made the question of *who would hurt him* that much more pressing. He had no run-ins with the law, on the contrary, he spent most of his free time down at the office with Sam, with dreams of eventually becoming a sheriff himself. So no, there was no pattern between Johnson the last case, Steve Rogers, the soldier notorious for his frequent visits to the station, who disappeared just a few days before Johnson. The only thing they had in common was leaving their respective places with an unspoken promise to be back — Rogers was off to the post office to mail a letter while Johnson was taking the garbage out for Mr. Barnes at the meat shop, never to return again. It made no sense. --- The first instance of someone going missing, it was Pixie Thomas, who was quite as eccentric as her name would suggest. With no reason to suspect foul play and with one of Pixie’s favorite bands on tour one town over, it was safe to say that she left to become one of their roadies. The second, third, fourth and fifth time it happened, well those cases weren’t so easy to write off. The victims ranged in ages, marital status, wealth, race. It was almost like whoever was behind this was choosing them at random which spelled trouble for the small force. With nothing to link the missing together, it was nearly impossible to know when and where the perpetrator would strike next. “Earth to Sam, hello?” Rhodey’s voice and wave of hand brought Sam back to the present. This kind of thing has happened before, Sam becoming so hyper-fixated on a particular case that he forgets to eat, drink, *blink*, but nowhere near this magnitude. Now, more often than not, Sam finds himself lost in his work and the other officers just find him lost. “I know you like to think if you stare at this wall long enough, the answers will appear like you’re in some kind of Sherlock episode but I’m sorry buddy, it ain’t happening.” Sam *might as well* be in a Sherlock episode the way this case is turning out. Actually there’s nothing more in the world he would love more than to ask Benadryl Cumberbatch for help with solving this shitshow but alas. “Go home Wilson”, Rhodey continues, “you need some rest.” “Can’t”, Sam replies. And it’s true; he can’t. He can’t just separate himself from this case, it’s not that easy. He can’t leave it unsolved, can’t chance the townspeople catching word of the seven disappearances within county lines and how their very own sheriff department has no clue what the fuck is going on. Can’t go home to *rest* when people like Casey Johnson or Steve Rogers may never make it back home ever again. Blowing on his coffee, letting the steam of the hot beverage envelop him for a moment, he turns to Rhodey and then back to the corkboard. ———— Growing up in Handonsville, Sam wanted nothing more than to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a sheriff in the town that loved him and he loved back. Handonsville, with all of its small-town charm — small, quaint, stereotypical —  is the only home Sam has ever known. It’s one of those places where no one is a stranger, for better or worse. Here, secrets are hard to hide and even harder to keep. Little to no anonymity is a small price to pay considering how fiercely the small town protects each other and itself. Growing up and until Sam’s third year on the job, there was no crime, no violence, no ... anything to be honest. The sheriff’s department was mostly for show, something to make out of towners reconsider their ideas of fucking with the people of Handonsville. And it worked. But now something had changed in the sleepy town. There were no threats from outsiders; no drifters unaware of the unspoken rules that govern Handonsville causing trouble. No, it was a different malevolent presence blanketing the town, sinking onto the residents, heavy and restricting. Now, the danger came from inside of the town. You could practically feel it in the air. The feeling of dread, of waiting for the first fall of rain to come after the dark clouds move in. The anxiousness of seeing lighting flit across the sky, preparing yourself for the roar of thunder that’s sure to follow. In the three decades Sam has lived in Handonsville, he never had any reason to ever doubt his own safety or the safety of the other 800 residents that called this place home too. Until today. Until Derek Anderson, the town’s resident mechanic, came barging into the office, yelling that he needed to speak to Sam and he needed to do it *right away*. Frantic and upset, Anderson ignores Rhodey’s suggestions to quiet down, the officer throwing an apologetic look over his shoulder at Sam who’s come from the back to see what the disturbance is all about. Before he even reaches the man, Sam knows immediately what all of the commotion pertains to, he can feel it in his gut. The eighth disappearance in less than two months in Handonsville. ———————— Taking the crumpled piece of parchment paper out of the garbage can for the sixth time today, Bucky finds himself staring down at the words of someone he hoped to never speak to again. At the mere mention of coming back home, of *Handonsville*, Bucky felt the floodgates open; nostalgia pouring down on him, pulling him under until he has no choice but to float with the current; had no choice but to let the memories he tried so hard to repress wash over him, engulf him completely. It’s nothing against Steve; no, Steve was a light in Bucky’s life, a light in so many others lives as well. Steve was smart, funny, had a penchant for danger the same way Bucky did. They were brothers in every sense of the word; playing together, fighting together, even crying together once when Sir Snaps a Lot, Steve’s turtle died. They didn’t know it then but it was a reason why they got along so well, like they were actual brothers. Because while Steve was a light in Bucky’s life, smart, funny and a risk-taker, he also was the byproduct of an affair that ruined the Barnes’ home completely. How their father thought a secret of that magnitude would ever remain hidden in a town like Handsonville was beyond Bucky and the ensuing drama drove him and his Ma out of town. It took years for Bucky to even acknowledge his father again, much less his father’s son. And *Steve* — the same Steve who was his age and his height and classmate and his best friend was no longer just that. Steve was his brother and no matter how many times they often referred to each other as brothers before the truth came out, how natural their relationship, the unmistakable bond the two shared, it wasn’t right to refer to Steve as what he actually was. But that was years ago, a lifetime even, and Bucky had made his peace, putting time and eight thousand miles of distance between himself and the sins of his father, only for one measly letter to draw him back, like a moth to an open flame. A small part of Bucky knew nothing good would ever come from him going back home. Knew there, he was more likely to meet his demise than his dawning; but under the incessant need to separate himself from the town that shunned him, turned him away was the egregious *want* to prove that he made it without them. That there was a great big world outside of the small town and that world accepted him even when they wouldn't. With his jaw set and his bags packed, Bucky set off to Handonsville. ————- It’s all starting to run together at this point. And not that Sam isn’t emphatic to the plight of Mr. Anderson — his heart yearns for the other man, the very idea of having to file this kind of report for your child is *traumatizing*, it’s just that he’s seen this scene play out before. He’s seen the frightened look on Anderson’s face before, he’s seen in at least seven times in the past two months. He’s heard the script before, sure the names and dates and last seen places are different, but in the end, it’s all the *same*.

#this is a mess but it's my mess

[eloarei]

1, 2, 3, 7, 9, 13, 17, 23 (some of these are random and some aren't)

Thanks for the many questions, Socks! Sorry I didn’t answer them earlier; I decided answering asks on mobile sucks.  ALSO, this is going to be super long haha sorry.  1.  Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?       Well, my most current project is one I just started brainstorming. It’s (hopefully gonna be) a Fallout 3 series, with my latest fic being the starting point. LW/Fawkes is a ship I liked immediately when I played the series some years ago, but I never got around to writing for it, probably in part because there’s already a super good longfic about them, and I just didn’t think there was much else I could say. But my LW is different from Choco’s LW, and lately I wanted to start something self-indulgent. Although I have enough ideas for this to maybe be a single 30k fic, I’m choosing to do a series of shortfics instead, so that I’m not burdening myself with another long project. Fic series are great in that way, because it’s basically complete with every new fic.       On top of that, I have... probably 3 other things I want to make significant progress on this year. First is another Fallout fic: Same Heart. I’ve posted 8 chapters already and have almost 2 more done, but due to the slow-build nature of it (and my tagging) I don’t expect to have almost any readers until at least chapter 10 (when the ship characters finally meet). I’d like to at least get that far this year.       A project I’d love to finish by fall is the unreleased “The Wilderness”, a Venom zombie AU that I started for NaNoWriMo 2 years ago. It’s about 55% written, and my goal is to have as much of it done as possible before the sequel movie comes out. If it’s not done by then, I still plan to post whatever I have.       And lastly-ish, my novel... thing. Rogue. I’m in the process of editing it, although I’ve taken kind of a break lately. And as soon as I’m done with the edits and can get a couple of people to read it (just so they can tell me if certain parts are stupid and need changed) I plan to start the next book in the series... which will probably end up being book #1, actually, if I do them modern-era chronologically. It’s... gonna be a process. ^^;  2.  Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project.       In my upcoming FO3 fic series, I’m honestly just kind of weirdly looking forward to... how do I put this? Exploring my own vaguely-traumatic experiences through fic. I’ll always do a happy ending, if possible, but before we get there I really want to run these two through the ringer of... being given something they were led to believe was impossible, being judged for it, having it taken away, and then being told “well maybe it’s for the best”.       When it comes to future projects, I guess I’m really excited about writing the new Rogue book. “Reaper”, I guess, is its unimaginative working title. I’m anxious about it, because I thought Rogue had some really deeply emotional scenes, and I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to accomplish that as well with this new one, simply because the characters don’t have the same level of desperation about each other. I need to figure out what’s unique about their dynamic and push that. I guess I’m looking forward to the challenge.  3.  What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)       Hmm gosh. Technically there’s a scene in the later chapters of Mobius that I already wrote, but it wouldn’t take place until probably chapter 3 or later, and I just lost all steam on that fic, sadly. But every time I poke through my notes I make myself cry reading it. It’s a scene where one character knows it’s going to be the last time he sees the person he loves most, and he can’t explain his pain to anyone. I really just want to get there so I can see if it makes other people cry like babies haha.       But on a completely unrelated note, there’s also this ZADR fic I started writing in like 2009, and I absolutely didn’t want to do the work to get to the fun middle scenes, but basically it was an AU where young adult Dib went to live/work in the thriving multi-species space community, where he’s... I dunno, studying alien biology I think?, and he ends up with Zim as a roommate. The scenes I really wanted to write were about the two of them getting into like a bar fight with some tough types, and Zim gets his pak ripped off/damaged in the process, and Dib has to sort of take care of him through a horrible fever. But then it turns out that the pak was not a life-support system like they thought, but actually a growth inhibitor so they (the people in charge of the Irkens) could choose who became the Tallest (the leaders). (And also it hindered reproduction, etc.) So basically the two of them accidentally start to unravel a galactic conspiracy which also involves corruption in the Earth government, etc, and Zim gets taller but spoiler alert, he still doesn’t get tall enough to challenge the Tallest lol. Sadly, I doubt I’ll ever actually write that fic. Sounds like too much effort lol.  7.  What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?       That’s such a hard question. Ummm. How do I put any of that into words? ...I think one of the things about my writing is that a lot of the time nothing really happens in a scene, and the story mostly focuses on a character thinking. Like, enough happens so there’s something for them to think about, but I think I tend to put a lot of emphasis on POV character’s thoughts, to the point of sometimes seeming stream-of-consciousness. I’ve been told that this makes my stories feel alive though? So I think it appeals to some people, though I’m sure others would find such stories boring.       Oh also, somewhat along these lines, I like to add commentary that is only somewhat relevant, usually in parenthesis at the end of a sentence or paragraph. (Honestly, it’s not unusual to see one in every paragraph if I’m writing something slightly humorous.)  9.  Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?      I would LOVE to write primarily longfics! However, I just don’t have the time or energy for it, and I don’t write fast enough. So I end up with a lot of oneshots under 10k. I had to challenge myself to learn to write short things though, and then it’s really about writing something short, not about writing a specific story.       Generally, I’m both pantster and plotter. I tend to write the first chapter/few scenes/maybe as much as 10k, just by the seat of my pants. After that, I look at what I’ve got and write out a plot to continue from there. Plotting everything out before I start just doesn’t work for me, but if I try “pantsing” anything longer than 15k I know I’m gonna have an absolute torturous hell of a time.  13.  Do you share your writing online? (Drop a link!) Do you have projects you’ve kept just for yourself?      Lol I think anyone who’s reading this knows I share my stuff online. Primarily on my AO3, though there’s some other stuff floating around here on tumblr too.  Most of the time if I keep something to myself it’s only because it’s not finish enough to share. So, sure, there’s plenty of that, but the goal is always to share it eventually. If I ever get around to finishing a novel, those will probably be the only things I don’t just post online. (Though I do post most of my OC stuff currently.)  17.  Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?       I think that inevitably my readers will always perceive me and my writing a bit differently than I do. That’s just... interacting with people. Nobody knows you entirely. However, I am as open and honest in my writing as possible, and I actually think that reading my fic is the best way to get to know me. I like to hope that I am an open book to anyone who has read many of my words. =] While you may not know the details of my life, I think you would have a good insight into my personality.    23.  What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?       Like... my oldest fic/story that I’ve never written or posted? Not counting stuff I’ve consciously abandoned (things from middle school, mostly), my original fic series, “Damsel and Company in Distress” aka DamselCo. is definitely my oldest story. I think I started fiddling with it in 2006-- which makes it pretty disappointing that it’s gotten next to nowhere. XD; But the story is my baby, and it’s been my baby for so long that anyone who’s followed me ever is probably at least vaguely familiar with a few of the characters.  Now maybe one day I’ll actually give it the attention it deserves, though I’m sure it’ll need significant revamping. After all, a lot has changed in 14+ years. Ideas that were new and subversive then are probably already stale. 

#elo talks #elo fics #ask meme #writing #long post #braincoins

[sheliesshattered]

Fic meme

I was tagged by @primarybufferpanel​ -- thank you darling, this was a ton of fun to do!

This got a bit long, so I’ll put the people I’m tagging here at the top:  @claraaoswald​, @ambitious-witch​, @someillplanetreigns​, and @junoinferno​, if you feel like playing!

My AO3, my old non-updating fanfiction.net

Fandoms I’ve made fanworks for: Oh lord. I’m only going to count fanfiction that has actually been posted, but if I tried to count up every fandom that I’d started writing for and left unfinished fragments languishing on various harddrives and googledocs over the years, it’d be at least double this list. I have two pseuds on AO3, with the fics roughly organized by fandoms that I post about on this Tumblr account (sheliesshattered) and fandoms that pre-date my time on Tumblr that I don’t post about very much (glasscannon). Putting all the fandoms together in one alphabetized list:

Black Sails - 5 Doctor Who - 8 Firefly/Serenity - 1 Game of Thrones - 1 The Hobbit - 1 The Hunger Games - 1 Iron Man - 2 Law & Order: Criminal Intent - 1 Mad Max - 2 Once Upon A Time - 1 Poldark - 3 Star Wars - 3 Twilight - 7 The West Wing - 1

Number of fics: 38, including a big unfinished epic that I never moved over from ff.n, and don’t plan to unless I finish it someday.

Fics I spent more time on: I’m not even quite sure how to measure this. I’m a slow writer, and a single story can easily hold my attention for years at a time, or be something I return to when there isn’t a newer fandom temporarily consuming me. I don’t tend to keep track of how many hours I put into a fanfic, though. The unfinished epic I mentioned is probably near the top of that list, and was a huge part of my life from 2009 to 2013. Other contenders would be the All Hands series (written with PBP!), and Truth Universally Acknowledged, particularly if you include all the massive world-building that went into that one. 

But really probably the one I’ve poured the most hours into, between research and writing, is a Doctor Who epic that hasn’t yet seen the light of day, called Home The Long Way ‘Round. Because I have such a habit of starting long stories and then not finishing them, I’m making myself get that one completely done before I post any of it to AO3, so I don’t have anything to show for it yet, but I’ve put a ton of time into it over the last five years or so. Hopefully someday I’ll actually get to share it. :)

Fics I spent less time on: Like I said, I’m a very slow writer, so any time I can turn out a story in a matter of days I’m just absolutely shocked. I wrote The Message over the course of about 24 hours, which is probably the fastest I’ve ever finished anything in my life ever, lol.

Longest fic: The All Hands series is sitting at 126,800 words, and PBP and I have more finished for it that we’re hoping to post soon-ish. The unfinished epic made it to almost 119,000 words before I ran out of steam. Truth Universally Acknowledged racked up about 54,000 words before my co-writer and I took a break from it, and probably triple that in world-building bibles and timelines, etc. On the works-in-progress side of things, Home The Long Way ‘Round is sitting at about 40,000 words currently and only about a third of the way done, and the For As Long As We Get series is at 21,000 words between what I’ve posted and what I’m still working on, and will definitely continue to grow.

Shortest story: 10 Seconds, at 208 words. Also one of the very first fanfics I ever finished and posted online.

Most hits: Truth Universally Acknowledged, by like a factor of 20 vs anything else I have on AO3. It’s the only time I’ve written for the main pairing in an active fandom (tho my purview in the co-writing was more on the secondary pairing), and that translated to a stupidly large number of hits. Fanfiction.net doesn’t count hits the same way, but the unfinished epic is sitting at about 3500 favs.

Most kudos: Setting The Stuns’ls, the first in the All Hands series -- which is SHOCKING considering that’s a tiny rowboat of a fandom, for a non-canon background pairing that has literally about 30 seconds of shared screentime, and the two romantic leads don’t so much as kiss over the course of 94,000 words (longing looks, significant hand-touches, mutual pining, definitely, but kissing, not so much).

Most bookmarks: Truth Universally Acknowledged, by a long shot.

Fic you want to rewrite or expand: I don’t tend to edit a story once it’s been posted, beyond correcting a typo or adding a missed word. Once it’s published, it’s finished and I don’t change it significantly. I do have quite a few (so, so many) unfinished stories that I would love to finish up at some point.

Total words combined: Counting only published fics, including the unfinished epic (and a companion piece for it) that lives only on ff.n, I’m currently at 376,542 words total.

Fav fic you wrote: How can you make me choose between my children like this, honestly?? Siiiigh. I’m with PBP, whatever I’m working on currently is usually my favorite. I’m having a ton of fun with For As Long As We Get, and can’t wait to publish the next part of that, hopefully sometime this month. I’m incredibly proud of All Hands, and that occupied such a specific time in my life that I’ll always think of it fondly. I’m exceptionally happy with the character voices and use of language in both Breathe Again and Upon This Rock Will I Break Myself, Until It Shows Me Your Beloved Face, and tend to feel like they don’t get enough love vs how much I love them. But my one true favorite is and will always be Home The Long Way ‘Round, and hopefully I’ll actually be able to finish it and post it someday.

Share a bit of your WIP or idea if you have anything planned: Again, how can I possibly choose just one?? Even just within the Doctor Who fandom, I currently have more than half a dozen stories actively in progress. But since I’ve talked it up so much without being able to link to it at all, and just declared it my all-time fav, I’m going to break one of my own rules and post the whole first chapter (eek!) of Home The Long Way ‘Round behind a read more:

Chapter 1: Orange Dreams

The sound of the wind is whispering in your head Can you feel it coming back? Through the warmth, through the cold, keep running ‘til we’re there. We're coming home now, we’re coming home now. —Home, Dotan

 The winds shrieked and howled around her. Clara had never been in a tornado, but she imagined it would feel like this to stand in the eye of one. She could see gusts lifting the tops off the sand dunes in shimmering ribbons, gold against the orange sky. The waves of airborne sand dissipated a few feet from her, leaving only a jagged grittiness in the air.

A woman with long blonde hair was yelling at her, her words ripped away by the wind.

“Tell me again!” Clara called back to her. “Tell me how to find home!”

“It’s just physics!” the other woman shouted, taking a step closer; they were nearly the same height. “No information can ever be lost! Start from zero, and run the math! We’ll be waiting on the other end of that equation!”

There was something Clara desperately wanted to tell this woman who looked at her with kindness behind the steel of her eyes, but in that moment, the words wouldn’t come.

“Look!” someone yelled behind Clara, and though she didn’t want to take her eyes off her, she instinctively looked up, following the line of the other person’s arm up into the gathering storm-whipped dusk. There, silhouetted against the last of the light, was the unmistakable blue boxy shape of the Doctor’s TARDIS, spinning quickly as it flew away—

Clara jerked awake, her heart hammering against her ribs, already sitting up and pulling off her sleep mask before she realised what had woken her was the sound of the TARDIS materialising in the sitting room of her flat. She took a moment to catch her breath, trying to hold onto the details of the dream. In the other room, the TARDIS’s familiar wheezing and groaning came to a stop with a soft thud, followed by the squeak of the door.

“Doctor?” Clara called, not bothering to hide the sleep nor the annoyance in her voice.

He poked his head around her bedroom doorframe, grey hair awry and his most innocent expression plastered on — which meant he knew he was waking her and felt at least marginally bad about it. “Hello, Clara. It’s Wednesday,” he said pleasantly, by way of explanation.

“Is it?” she asked, deadpan.

“Technically.”

“You do know that I have to work today, don’t you?”

“Not for another six hours. So come on, up-and-at-‘em, plenty of time to go out and save the universe and still be back in time for your morning coffee. I’ve an adventure that simply won’t keep, so come on!”

His excitement was infectious, as he must have known it would be, but Clara clung to her annoyance a little longer, mostly for show. “You have a time machine: everything can keep,” she replied, but waved him off before he could launch into a lecture on all the ways that statement was false, at least from a temporal physics standpoint. He lectured anyway, hovering outside her bedroom door as she dressed, though Clara expected it was mostly to keep himself from pacing in anticipation. She followed more than half of it, and worried a bit over how often she let him babble on about the minutiae of time travel these days.

By the time the universe had been set to rights — or at least one small blue world, home to a race of sentient seahorses, that had been facing imminent extinction in the form of a rogue exoplanet — she had nearly forgotten her unsettling, vivid dream.

--

Given the recent events on Skaro, Clara was unsurprised when bits of her experiences there began to filter into her dreams. Truthfully, she had expected to dream of it more often than she did, but in the weeks that followed, more nights than not her sleeping mind instead conjured up the strange orange landscape. She revisited that screaming sandstorm so often it became almost comforting, and before long, other dreams joined it. 

Clara was leaned against a railing on a high balcony, overlooking a large city coming alight as dusk crept on, a rusty sunset that stretched the width of the horizon bathing the world in amber. The woman with the serious eyes and long, straight blonde hair stood beside her, in the middle of a conversation, as happened so frequently in dreams.

“Alright, but what about the last stage?” Clara asked, elbows resting next to hers on the railing. “That bit depends on us actively doing something, and you know we can’t rely on my knowledge. I can’t take any of the engineering or navigation with me, so it’ll be down to him.”

“And he loves a good puzzle,” the other woman said confidently, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a twitch of her head. “He’ll want to find us. He’ll figure it out.”

“Before I die of old age? Are you sure? My mother was one of his professors at the Academy, I’ve seen his test scores. I think we need a fail-safe.”

“He did graduate,” she pointed out reasonably.

“He passed his exams with a fifty-one percent on his second attempt! No, we can’t assume he’ll have all the baseline information to even consider such a solution, much less actually accomplish the maths. We have to find some way to hide it with me,” Clara said. “Or in his TARDIS.”

The woman was silent for a long moment, her mouth set in a thoughtful line. On the distant horizon, the sun had finished its slow descent, but below them the city was coming to life, the light not so much fading as changing sources, becoming ever so slightly more golden.

“By that point in the timeline,” the blonde woman said, speaking slowly, still thinking it through, “you’ll have been exposed to his timestream and to the crack in the universe, so some of your memories will probably start leaking through. If we structure the extraction the right way, we might be able to embed a particular thought or moment into your consciousness before you go into the Schism.”

“What’d you have in mind?” Clara asked, turning her head to look at her.

“This conversation?” she suggested, laughing, her broad smile transforming her face. “No, a phrase would be cleaner, I think.”

“‘Run the math, you idiot boy’?” Clara suggested, also giggling.

“Oh yes, that’d go over well! No, if you want him to do something, call him clever. Works every time!” she laughed, leaning her shoulder into Clara’s.

“The horrid thing is that I know the temporal physics for this is part of my mother’s coursework,” Clara groaned. “If he hadn’t slept through so many of her classes, this would be a non-issue!”

“Ah, but a Doctor who was always responsible? What a boring universe that would be!”

Above them, the stars were beginning to come out, though the glare of the city obscured them. Through the haze of the dream, Clara couldn’t find any constellations she recognised. “You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “I was the one who helped him steal that box in the first place.”

“And if he could take half a moment to remember that,” the blonde woman said seriously, “he might realise the role of his TARDIS in all of this, and start to think of the solution that way.”

“‘Run the math, you—”

“Clever.”

“—boy, and remember when you met me’?”

The other woman nodded, considering. “That could do it. Your chronodeterminate conjugation won’t work until you come into contact with at least a little regeneration energy. Assuming you choose regeneration on Trenzalore, it might start kicking in then, in plenty of time for the last stage.”

“Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me,” Clara whispered up to the distant stars, cradling her chin on her arms against the railing.

The woman mimicked her position, the golden light of the city and the silver light of the stars catching in her long pale hair. “It’s just physics,” she murmured back. “Start from zero and run the math. I’ll be waiting at the other end of that equation. We’ll all be waiting.”

--

As unsettling as they were, at least the orange-tinged dreams were better than nightmares of Daleks, of being locked in the Dalek casing, unable to convince the Doctor that it was her, it was her, she wasn’t a Dalek, she wasn’t a Dalek! Dreams of the Doctor peering at her down an eyestock, this face or the last, or any of the others buried deep in her subconscious, hearing her but not knowing her, seeing her but not saving her.

Clara grasped for that orange sky, let it carry her away in bronze sandstorms, golden cities slowly coming to life, and starlight caught in tawny hair.

--

Monday morning third period found her Year 10 students taking an essay exam while Clara doodled on a scrap piece of paper, trying to pull images and phrases out of the orange haze that had taken up residence in her slumbering hours since Skaro. There were bits that tugged at her memory, like a song she couldn’t quite place but whose tune was intensely familiar.

She’d written Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me across the top of the page, and her eyes strayed to it every few seconds. The phrase had stayed with her after she woke, and had been on the tip of her tongue ever since, as though it was a message she was meant to deliver. Below it she’d rewritten the phrase, but crossed out six words: Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me.

It was too close for comfort to the phrase that had, in retrospect, changed her life, sent her on her current course. The Maitlands’ mnemonic for their wifi password, which she’d said out loud during that first phone conversation with the Doctor, had caught his attention somehow, and it wasn’t until she jumped into his timestream that she understood. It was the last thing she’d said to him before sacrificing herself to save him. Every fragment of her scattered through his timestream had said it to him at some point as well, the words reverberating endlessly up and down his timeline.

Why her dreams would dredge it up now, and in such a strange context, Clara had no idea. They didn’t feel like random images, but more like memory-dreams, like the bits of echo lives that filtered through to her sleeping mind from time to time. It had to mean something.

Half way down the scrap paper she’d written: It’s just physics. Start from zero and run the math. Below this was the very helpful ??? and Clara idly traced over the question marks again. Physics was still a foreign language to her, despite how much the Doctor prattled on about it at times. She could bring this to him, she mused, but what was it, really? Her subconscious doing backflips in the wake of Skaro, that was all. No grand mystery to solve, no universe-altering secret code, just her. She wouldn’t bother the Doctor with this quite yet.

Besides, she was certain she could tease this apart on her own, follow the clues to their logical conclusion without his assistance. The dreams were insistent, and felt familiar, but Clara was sure she’d never dreamed of the blonde woman and the orange sky prior to Skaro. That was the next clue, then, and she jotted it down on her scrap paper. Something had changed after Skaro, something that caused her subconscious mind to dredge up these particular buried memories. 

She needed more information. Dreams about her echo lives were always stronger when she was aboard the TARDIS travelling in the Vortex, sharper and easier to remember. Maybe these orange dreams would be, too. And maybe the TARDIS itself would have some answers for her.

--

Of course, she didn’t sleep aboard the TARDIS very often, with her insistence on returning home for a week of Real Life in between their Wednesday trips. But the Doctor was never adverse to her sticking around longer than she’d planned, and in the end it didn’t take much to convince him: 

“I’ve a staff meeting at work that I’m dreading,” Clara told him on that next Wednesday, when they returned to the TARDIS after their latest outing. “So what do you say I have a little kip and then we squeeze in another adventure before you take me back to face my workday?”

She thought for a moment that the Doctor might question the change in their routine, but he seemed thrilled about the idea. When he announced that he had some tinkering with the engines he’d been putting off that should keep him occupied while she slept, Clara made an excuse to linger in the console room — “just going to finish reading this chapter, then off to bed” — until after he’d gone. Once he’d disappeared down the corridor and around a corner, she quietly set aside her book, then slipped out of her armchair and down the stairs towards the console. The rotors hummed overhead, and somehow Clara knew the TARDIS was aware of her, and was curious to see what she would do.

Carefully clearing her thoughts, she made her way over to the telepathic circuits, pushed up her sleeves, and slid her hands into the strange interface. Focus was the key, she knew, and she was nothing if not focused. She closed her eyes and held two very specific thoughts in her mind: the sand-whipped orange sky in her dreams, and the clear question, Where, please?

She hoped the please would help.

It was a long quiet moment with the circuits warmly cradling Clara’s fingers, and then something on the console beeped. Her eyes flew open and she carefully extracted her hands from the telepathic interface before pulling the monitor down to eye level.

Gallifrey the screen read in English, below an image of a startlingly red-orange planet. Immediately prior to the Time Lock.

Clara felt her heart thud painfully against her ribs as she read the brief text again. She’d been dreaming of Gallifrey? She knew she’d had an echo life on Gallifrey, but she remembered that interaction with the Doctor, and it happened indoors. She had never before dreamt of the Gallifreyan sky. Had it been buried somewhere in her subconscious with the rest of her memories of that life? Why surface now?

More confused than ever, she clicked the screen back to the desktop, unreadable Circular Gallifreyan floating idly across the display. Perhaps she should bring this up with the Doctor — it was his home world, after all. But the whole point of this had been to dream while they were in the Vortex, and if she didn’t get a move on, he’d be ready for their next adventure before she’d even managed to fall asleep. She could talk with him about it later. 

And if things worked tonight as she hoped they would, maybe she would even have a bit more information to bring to him when she did.

--

“Fire suppressant in Pod Four!” 

The frantic call was quickly overwhelmed by the sound of the requested suppressant dispensing from the ceiling. When it ended, the speaker, dressed in the dark red uniform of a technician, brushed soot and foam off his shirt. 

“It hates me, that one,” he said, nodding at the unassuming gray cylinder in the open pod in front of him. It was devoid of features, even its doors invisible now in the wake of the fire, two meters tall and one meter in diameter, just like all the other patients in the workshop. But somehow it did seem to be glowering at him.

“And it always will, stop wasting your time,” his coworker said flippantly. He was perched in front of a console on the other side of the room, deep in his own repairs. “Just get the Impossible Girl to do it, she’ll have it eating out of her hand by lunchtime.”

Their conversation occurred in the time it took Clara to enter the large oblong workshop and make her way to the far end where the two were working. “I heard that,” she said seriously, earning a guilty-looking jump from the man who had spoken most recently. She continued over to Pod Four and leaned against the outer casing, arms folded over her uniformed chest, one booted ankle crossed over the other. “What did you do now?” she demanded of the first technician.

He looked at her with wide eyes, more out of genuine fear than mock innocence, in her estimation. “I just told it—”

“You what?” she snapped, in a tone she usually reserved for misbehaving students.

He wilted a little but started again “…I told it to—”

“Told it?”

“…to give me access to the logs,” he mumbled, dropping her gaze.

“Told it to give you access to the logs?” she asked, voice harsh. “Well first off, Number Four here prefers male pronouns, respecting that might put you on better footing. And secondly, as with all TARDISes, you’ll get a lot further if you ask rather than tell.”

Behind her, the other tech scoffed. “They’re machines, we shouldn’t have to baby them like that. An access request is an access request.”

Clara turned her head to pin him with an icy glare. “Some days I cannot believe I let you work here,” she told him bluntly. “They aren’t just machines, as you very well know. Yes, there’s hardware we need to be able to work with, but that’s nothing more than a radio, at some level — only instead of radio waves, we’re using oswin waves to talk to pan-dimensional beings so large, they can’t have a physical form in this dimension. Who, with a little extra energy, can take us and an infinite amount of folded space to nearly any point in spacetime. Just think about the massive intelligences that speak to us through each of those machines!

“But more to the point,” she said, turning back to the tech still covered in soot, “you have to understand their viewpoint of the universe, and their understanding of time. A Time Lord telling a TARDIS what to do is akin to creating a fixed point in spacetime. It’s in their nature to want to avoid fixed points. Ask instead, let him find his own way ‘round to it.”

Before the beleaguered technician could reply, there came a polite knocking from the far end of the room, and Clara turned to see a soldier standing in the doorway of the workshop, looking a little out of his depth. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have a message for—” he paused to glance down at the datapad in his hand, “for the Oswin. From the Lady President. Top priority.”

Clara was moving towards him before he’d finished speaking, curious and concerned, her attention focused on the message in his hands. But the dream faded out before she reached him, her mind moving on to something more abstract, more difficult to hold on to.

When she woke in her bed aboard the TARDIS, she stared at the ceiling with fond frustration. “If that was your attempt at help,” she whispered to the ship, “then I do not understand the message.”

--

It still wasn’t enough to bring to the Doctor, she decided later that day, watching him spin around the console room in the afterglow of a successful adventure, people saved, the universe bettered. So she was dreaming of Gallifrey, what of it? Many of the details in that last dream matched up with what she remembered of her interaction with the Doctor in that life. And while he occasionally enjoyed comparing memories of all the times her echoes had met him, she’d found he wasn’t especially keen on discussing the one in which she’d helped him steal the TARDIS and leave Gallifrey. Susan continued to be a point of pain for the Doctor, all these centuries later, and Clara understood him well enough to know better than to pick at that particular scab.

Still. That phrase was on a loop in her head: run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me. The emphasis on their meeting hadn’t been part of the original phrase, and now she was dreaming of the life in which they’d met face to face for the first time, from the Doctor’s perspective. Clearly they would have to discuss it at some point. 

Eventually, but not yet.

#long post #about me #my writing #like seriously all of it #fanfiction #fandom life #AO3 #Home The Long Way 'Round #For As Long As We Get #All Hands #Truth Universally Acknowledged #et al #if you read that chapter let me know what you think! #❤️

[chezzkaa]

Numb pt 23

Click here for more Numb content OR JOIN THE NUMB DISCORD

Lumberjack AU Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader WC: 3500+

Date posted: 25 Nov 2018

“Are you sure you guys don’t need our help?” Trevor asks for what feels like the hundredth time, shuffling his feet and shrugging on a thick black trenchcoat. Fiddling with the sleeves, he casts glance to his girlfriend that makes it undeniably clear that he doesn’t intend on offering his time to the cause. The quirk of an eyebrow challenges her disapproval.

Lauren gives him yet another exacerbated look, taking the challenge in her stride. Hands on her hips, she serves him a look that would have you wincing if you were on the receiving end. Trevor doesn’t shrink away, rather enjoying himself. “Don’t even think about leaving, asshole. We need you here.”

Alfredo nods, looking as though he understands what you’re saying until he opens his mouth. “Well, if you insist.” He readjusts his sweatshirt, making sure his neck is completely engulfed by his red scarf. He hits you with a cheeky grin, lips hidden beneath the fabric. “But don’t pretend like we didn’t offer.”

“You didn’t offer!” you reject vehemently, “and you’re not even listening to us!”

Trevor looks offended, scoffing at the prospect while latching on to Alfredo’s arm - who’s equally insulted - and yanking open the door. “How dare you? We’re going to the tavern, you funky witch bitches, where our talents are appreciated.”

“They’re appreciated here,” wails Lauren, motioning to the sheer size of the task that’ll take over the night.

“Nope, we can tell when we’re not welcome,” interjects Alfredo, clutching his chest and pulling a pained expression. “C’mon Treyco, let’s get outta here.”

Trevor nods firmly, turning on his heels and storming out into the snow, yelping as the cold settles across his skin. Alfredo suddenly looks a lot more apprehensive, taking a moment before following with a hollar, “We’ll drink drink your share, don’t worry!”

“Oh really?” You laugh, watching them traipse through the garden on unsteady feet, wobbling with every hole they slip into. Knees hitting the ground, forcing laughter from their lungs and smiles across their faces. “What a generous offer!”

“You fucking know it!” yells Trevor heroically, beaming back to the lodge, “don’t forget the sacrifices we’ve made here today!”

“Welp, they’re gone and I hate you.” Lauren’s voice doesn’t waver, certain in her statement as she closes the door after a moment, your friends having been swallowed in the night. “I hate you so damn much, Y/N. Do you have any idea how hard it was to carry all this shit back from the library?”

You smile, settling in the firelight cast across the livingroom floor, tea warm against your fingertips. “You made it home though, didn’t you?”

Lauren follows your lead, sighing into her seat. “Barely,” she snorts, “I nearly died.”

“Really?”

“Not at all. Right, where do you wanna start?” She motions to the left of you, battered books clinging to life and enough dust that your throat burns. “Over there we’ve got the handwritten journal of our ghosty friend, and over there we’ve got town records right the way up to the time her son ran Motbury.” She directs your attention to a collection of binders, surprisingly small in comparison to the amount of information you expected. “Not much, right?”

“Yeah,” you frown, flipping through the closest folder, only to be met with architectural plans and a few lackluster excerpts. You could take better notes in your sleep. “Lots of stuff about how he protected the town… That’s kinda really fucking weird. There’s nothing after that.”

She nods, hand running through her hair before she taps her cheeks a few times, determined to stay awake. It’s only once she’s settled and finished rubbing her eyes that she realises her coffee sits on the counter. She frowns. “And the night just got worse.”

“What are you talking about?”

She motions to her cup, your gaze following the saddened expression she throws across the room. A flick of your wrist sees her mood brighten, concentration burning your palms and static in your fingers while the mug rattles excitedly against the bench. Another smooth motion sees her drink lift, your hand pulling the air like a long string until it reaches you. Across the carpet, threat of spilling mounting to an uncomfortable peak before gently coming to rest in front of Lauren.

She grins, relieved when plucking it from your control and taking a sip. A sigh escapes into its depth, rumbling happily. “Oh yeah, that’s the good shit.”

“You’re welcome.”

She peers over the rim, already brightening. “Your Granddad would be so disappointed. ‘Kids these days and not using their legs! Grumble grumble, I’m so old’.” You cackle, her impression knitting her eyebrows together and flattening her lips into a thin line. The short, sharp jerks of her shoulders punctuate every grouchy exclamation, and a finger jams her glasses up the bridge of her nose so roughly you can practically hear them clatter against her skull. “What next, huh? ‘Back in my day we punched each other for fun. Burnt women at the stake for friend-zoning us’.”

“Stop,” you wheeze, putting your tea down before it can spill. Between laughter she flicks a spark into your cup, contents steaming once again. “Granddad was so old.”

“He knew Jesus, right?”

“He probably cursed Jesus for trespassing on the footpaths. That old fucker was the worst.”

“The worst,” she agrees firmly, snatching at a page and bringing it up to a settling expression. “Speaking of the worst, you got a light?” Lauren asks, straining at the handwriting she attempts to scan for the third time, squinting through her glasses.

“I mean… you got health insurance?”

“In this country?” she scoffs, “hell no, why?”

“Well,” you start, rubbing your hands together, “I could give that light thing another go.”

Her eyes narrow critically, and Lauren shuffles further away. “That crap from the other night? That you scared the bear thing off with?”

“Almost bear, yeah.”

“No,” she rejects, “no no no. You’re gonna fucking shoot me.”

You roll your eyes, offended but completely understanding her lack of faith. “C’mon, it’ll be fine.”

It takes her a moment to reply, but she doesn’t seem any more convinced. “Have you been practicing?”

Your slow response doesn’t fill her with confidence, her groan ruining your attempts to get her on side. “Nope. This’ll be a great time to practice.”

“I’m going to die,” she laments, slipping further in her seat.

“You’re not going to die.”

“Yes I am, oh god. This is it. This is the end…” She sits back up, beaming eagerly. “Well, go on then. Least I’ll die cool.”

“Gimme a fucking minute, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. In your own time, but soon cus we’ve got shit to do.”

“Don’t make me curse you out,” you murmur, attention already drifting.

Staring at your hand, tracing the curves of silver scars and lost in the clusters of ink staining your palm like stars across a night sky, you start to remember. It’s small at first, the feeling. Gentle and timid, pinching in your chest. But warm, surprisingly. Nothing like the searing cold that has surged through your fingers and buckled your elbow. Nothing like the freezing desperation that’d seen seen it fountain from your being like a burst damn.

Because you’re not afraid this time.

And why would you be? Clinging to the sheer fact you’ve done this before, on an admittedly larger and uncontrollable scale, is all you need. You can feel it. Like the light is trapped between your ribs, uncertain, but undeniable. Almost like the warmth of the first sip of a hot drink after walking through the snow, comfort pooling in your chest and stretching throughout your limbs. The thick blankets that come along with winter, or the roaring of a well established fire.

“You’re glowing.”

Glancing up, Lauren is watching you attentively. Eyes glued to your shoulders, her expression caught in the moonlight emanating from your skin. You smile, and airy laugh accompanying your excitement. “I can’t believe this.”

“You’re a night light.”

“Does it help?” you ask, shuffling closer to her to ward off the shadows the night is chasing across the documents.

She nods. “A little.”

The motion happens before you realise you’re doing it, focusing on the redirection of the light. It burns as it follows the lines of your veins, stinging at the wrist before it glows so brightly in your hand that you’re left squinting. A quick flick of your fingers disperses the light, scattering it towards the ceiling where it clings to the air. Suspended and glittering like stars caught by the roof.

“How about that?”

“I - holy fuck! Y/N, this is amazing! You know what we should do?” You can’t quite tear your attention away from the small balls of light, questioning her logic through numb lips. “We should order dinner!”

You rock back, your smile so broad your cheeks hurts. “Fuck yes we should.”

“Can I get HSP?”

“Nope.”

She slumps, groaning in a lackluster flail of limbs. “Ugh. What even is life?”

Tossing a journal at her, you grin. “I’m fucking kidding! Do you really think I’d live somewhere without HSP? I’m not a monster!”

“I want wine.”

“We can get wine.”

She thinks for a moment. “And whiskey.”

“And whiskey.”

-

“Looks like Ryan was right,” Lauren says eventually, feeling no need to hide her disappointment. She slumps in her seat, head resting on the couch while she shares her grievances with the ceiling. “We haven't learnt anything new. Gotta admit, your lumberjack lover is thorough. You and Michael may have figured out that the story is linked to all this, but this Turner person is useless.”

The weight on your shoulders grows heavier, anxiousness scratching against your ribs. Frustration clinging to the hair your force from your face, scalp lined with the effort to sooth yourself. A swig of whiskey doesn’t help. “There has to be something, Lol, there’s a truth to every story somewhere. We can't just give up.”

She bristles through a sip from her glass, though barely. “There's only so many times we can read about some woman and her rambling tea habits. I mean, fuck, who drinks this sort of shit?”

“I do,” you reply, offended and rosy cheeked.

“You're the only one.”

Then it hits you, knocking the air from your lungs with enough force that, if you were standing, you'd buckle into the realisation. Lauren sees the shift, watching the energy that had been draped across your shoulders dissipate. Breaking away and fracturing into golden shards as you rock onto your knees.

You're eager, enough to have her waking up from the sleepy alcohol stupor she's almost ready to let take her. “You're right, that's it!”

“What’s it?”

“The tea - the bloody tea thing! You said that I'm the only one that drinks that sort of shit.”

Her brow furrows, struggling to follow as you start rifling through the pile of information. “You and Turner, yeah.”

You emerge beaming, clutching the journal Lauren had tossed aside in disgust. “And what did you mean by shit?”

“What?”

“Type of tea, Lol. What makes up the tea?”

“Herbs and weird flowers and that kinda gross stuff.”

You nod, not even bothering to correct her on the subtle act of tea making, or calling out her strict reliance on camomile or sugarless coffee. Instead you're smiling, flipping through the pages. “Why?”

“Why what?” She pulls a face. “I swear I am going to kill you. It’s too late for this shit.”

“Why do I use those ingredients?”

“Cus they're fucking awful and you hate yourself? C’mon, Y/N. Just tell me!”

Fingers drum against the file, incessant while you stare. When she doesn’t respond your eyes roll. “Witches drink tea.”

Lauren’s face goes blank, eyes widening and eyebrows disappearing beneath her unruly bangs. Her mouth opens with a small pop, hands starting to flap as excitement sees her bouncing. “Witches drink tea!”

You smack the folder to punctuate the point, rocketing to your knees and shuffling over to her as fast as you can. Thrusting your file under her nose, you tap at the margin lined with tea recipes. “Exactly! Witches drink tea. This is the type of stuff I drink when I’m feeling paranoid.” You pull it back, flipping through the pages. “Look, she’s got teas for calming, teas for sleep, teas for cleansing, teas for all emotional healing-”

“That’s crazy!” Lauren exclaims, yanking the closest free journal over and scanning for herself. “The tea shit is everywhere.” She snaps the book shut, moving on to another that’s exactly the same. “Holy fuck.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to figure that out. It all looked normal to me,” you manage, lowering the text into your lap and sitting back down, fingers tangled in your hair while you stare out the window. The cold screams back, faint whispers of snow caught in the lights glowing outside. “It’s kinda sorta really fucking weird. You reckon she was a proper witch, or that she was just really good with tea?”

Lauren makes a weird noise, shrugging. “I dunno, I’m going with no, though? Tradition carries a lot of weight, and recipes and tea properties are used by people without magic all the time. Turner hasn’t done anything remotely witchy that I’ve noticed. Shame the son didn’t keep any journals. There’s nothing from him in this pile. You’d have thought that if your mum was actually a witch you’d want to write some cool stuff down.”

“Moira was incredibly thorough... Her whole life up until her disappearance is here. All we’ve got on the son - oh god, what’s his name?”

“We don’t have a name.”

“Great,” you groan, “brilliant. Fucking fantastic. All we’ve got on no-name-Turner is stuff from his mum and the other crap from the town plans before it all just stops. There’s not even any mention of markings on doorways and stuff.”

She nods, frustrated and exhausted. “Great. We’ve got tea recipes and a man that just disappeared along with his record keeping skills-”

A loud crash cuts her off, the rattle of a lock and smack of a door knob hitting the wall followed by a quick succession of frantic footsteps pounding down the hall. But it’s nothing in comparison to the roarious laughter. Alfredo and Trevor stumble through the door arm in arm, tripping over their feet and bouncing against the entryway. Silly beams split across their faces when you and Lauren glance up, Alfredo breaking away and collapsing on the couch, somehow managing to shove his hand cheekily across your face in the process. The surprise has your concentration shattering, along with the orbs of light you’d managed to keep strong up until this point. Though the alcohol had seen them lower, most of the light having hovered around your elbows rather than dusting the ceiling as they originally had. They dissipate quickly now, dropping the room into the firelight.

Trevor wastes no time in launching forward, letting his momentum carry him into Lauren’s lap despite her half hearted protests, curling up in her arms and determined not to move. “Hey there baby,” he muses sleepily, lost in the smile she presses to his forehead. “Did you miss me?”

“Miss you?” she laughs, running her fingers through his hair, “not at all.”

“It was actually really nice,” you confirm, leaning against Alfredo’s shoulder, “I haven’t had peace and quiet in a long time.”

“Nahh,” Alfredo groans into the couch cushions, turning to face you. His expression crushes, balling into something so comical that you can’t hold in the sniggers. “You missed us. You always miss us.”

“Shut up,” you groan happily, batting away the hand he uses to mess up your hair. “You shut the hell up Fredo, or I’m kicking your ass to the curb.”

“Fine,” he exclaims, sitting up suddenly, “but we made friends, Y/N. New friends. Better friends. One of them was a cop-”

“A drunk cop!” Trevor chimes in too close to Lauren’s ear, causing her to bite back a wince.

“A drunk cop!” Alfredo agrees, swinging his arm around. “And there was a coffee man with this… this beautiful hair. And a British person! I’ve never seen a British person more English than he was.”

“Made up words,” coos Trevor, flailing in Lauren’s arms, “made up words he did!”

“He did! You know what?” Alfredo glares, the expression not quite holding the same accusations they would if he were in the least bit sober. “I’m gone go stay with Gavin. Ma man will look after me.” He moves to stand, swaying as he swipes one of the journals from the top of a pile, squinting at the spidery writing like he’s forgotten how to read. “Maybe I’ll take him this damn book as some firewood, huh? Huh, Y/N? How’d you like dat? Fucking kick my ass to the curb, you animal. You… wait - what is this? This thing that I’m holding?”

Lauren doesn’t miss a beat, smiling sweetly into his confusion. “Alfredo, that’s a book.”

He blinks hard at her, leaning into the motion and holding his eyes closed and eyebrows together for far too long. “I know what a book is.”

Trevor nods into the crook of Lauren’s neck, nuzzling into her like he’s desperate for warmth. She spares him an unsympathetic pat on the head, giving his hand a firm squeeze. Trevor can’t hide his grin. “Sauce can’t read.”

“I can read!” Alfredo wails dejectedly at his drunk friend, offended. Returning to the page that seems to have insulted him so much, he jabs a finger to it’s margins. “I’m talkin’ bout this crazy chick. She’s as weird as you. Yes, you, Y/N. Look. Look, are you looking? Looky. C’mon, just look! See? She’s does the same crazy shit that you do!”

Only minorly outraged, you press a disgruntled frown to your face. “Crazy shit? Rude.”

He pays you no mind, continuing to sway while he fails to grab your hand - not once, but twice - before pulling you unwillingly to your feet. Gripping his elbow to ensure he doesn’t clatter to the ground, you make sure he’s steady before peering at the passage he keeps indicating too. “Well, look,” Alfredo starts, “this bitch be doin’ these weird ass symbol things that you do.” A clumsy finger drags down the side of the page, gliding over ink splattered and familiar illustrations. “See? You see dat? Look at dat… you looking? Dawg, just look-”

“Yeah,” you reply, cutting him off. “Yeah, I’m looking. I didn’t, wait - how didn’t I notice these? This changes everything.” Your attention breaks away from the page, settling on Lauren. She watches you, equally shocked. “This means that Moira was a witch.”

“Course she was a witch!” reprimands Alfredo, “your lumberjack man even told you it was a witch hunt.”

Lauren scowls, struggling around Trevor until eventually standing. He doesn’t want to follow, but reluctantly does; gripping the couch like a lifeline. “Yeah, but the people in witch hunts weren’t actually witches. They were just poor women that we’re caught up in stupid superstitious bullshit. And Turner didn’t do any of the usual shit people used to accuse witches of.”

“So that means she can’t be a witch?” Trevor questions, paling slightly with the churn of his stomach. “How closed minded.”

Alfredo nods eagerly in agreement. “You two see this shit every day, so course you didn’t recognise it as weird. Us normal fucks don’t. This bitch is a witch!”

A hand you can’t deem to be excited or nervous shifts through your hair, brushing away the exhaustion of a long night. You stare at Alfredo, watching him vibrate proudly. “You’re kidding,” you manage around an incredulous laugh, “we spent hours doing this. Hours! We found the tea thing, but we couldn’t pin that to a witch properly. And then you come stumbling in here and do it in 2 minutes?!”

Lauren grins. “That means I can go to bed!”

Your face falls. “It means we’ve got a lot of stuff to do-”

“Bed!” she reiterates, snatching Trevor’s hand and making her way towards the stairs without a backwards glance. “C’mon, Trev, we’re celebrating.”

Alfredo watches them go, offering a clumsy wave to his friend before turning back to you. He looks awkward, pleading. “Please, I don’t wanna celebrate.”

“Hurtful, but mutual,” you agree. His face brightens in relief. “You want a hot chocolate with marshmallows?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, scampering towards the couch and curling up on the cushions. “By the fire with blankets.”

“Done,” you laugh, collecting a bunch and unfurling them over him, watching his face gleefully reappear from beneath the throws. He’s grinning, cheeks threatening to split. Childhood innocence oozes from the expression, eyes sparkling in the light. “We’ll watch Brooklyn Nine Nine?”

You didn’t think it were possible, but he smiles even wider. Wiggling in his spot, he can’t hold in the excited squeal that follows you into the kitchen, sound lost in the sound of the kettle and clatter of cups. “Y/N, you’re my gurl!”

Smiling, you don’t have to turn around to know that he’s already drifted off to sleep.

#Achievement Hunter #Ryan Haywood #RTAH #Ryan Haywood x reader #lumberjack au #lumberjack ryan #jeremy dooley #detective!jeremy #geoff ramsey #michael jones #lindsay jones #jack pattillo #gavin free #trevor collins #alfredo diaz #numb #numb fic #witchy!reader #ah reader insert #rt reader inserts #rt imagine #ah imagine

[chainsawbettyloo]

Title: Pink Glove 

Pairing: SidLink | Rating: Everyone | Written from prompt above!

Tags: AU - Modern Setting, AU - College, Confessions, Love Confessions, Kissing, First Time Kiss, Fluff

Summary: The night started out as a ghost hunting adventure, and ended at a gas station, chugging down sugary, caffeinated garbage. Link's happy enough to just be spending some quality time with Sidon but when he gets a text from Zelda, who insists he tells Sidon how he feels or she'll do it for him, the night is about to take a turn for the surprising...and better

Cross posted on my AO3!, Prompt requests are still open, btw! 

-

The pink glove lay on the ground, almost completely covered by dust. Link briefly glanced at it, wondered how it got there then immediately lost interest. Probably belonged to part of a pair of horny teens who thought an abandoned hotel was the sexiest place to swap DNA. Swinging his flashlight upwards towards the ceiling, he took in the cracks, cobwebs, and sighed heavily. A puff of white steam swirled around his face as he exhaled. This was probably the least adventurous adventure he had ever been forced to go on. Well, forced was probably too strong a word: manipulated was probably better.

Come hunt ghosts at a creepy abandoned hotel where like, five people totally died for realsies, and a bunch of people had reported “activity”. He had absolutely no idea what that meant, but the whole thing was just intriguing enough to get him interested enough to actually accompany his friends along this ghost hunting outing. Not that he had expected anything to happen (but, admittedly, a tad bit hopeful), and, not surprisingly, absolutely squat had. There were a few times when Riju, Yunobo and Mipha had sworn up and down that they had seen something or heard something but as for him, there were no paranormal experiences. He was pretty sure everything those other three had, supposedly, seen / heard was because they wanted something to happen.

Go into a creepy hotel at night expecting ghosts and you’re gonna get ghosts. Simple as simple gets. Pretty much, his entire night had been entirely wasted. He could have been at home, cocooned in a mass of blankets on his coach, warm as a bug in a rug, with a video game or movie, and a big bowl of something incredibly unhealthy but nooooo, he let Riju talk him into fucking ghost hunting. Well, least this was something he’d be able to say he did: ‘oh yeah, I went ghost hunting once - oh, nah, lol, it was a total bust. Don’t know what the fuss was all about’. Also, well, there was another reason that made this cold, miserable night pretty alright.

Turning, he raised his flashlight to chest level as Sidon walked in from behind him. Now there was the real reason he had decided to tag along. Sure, the ghosts were cool and all that, but a chance to spend time with Sidon was totally worth it. Course, they already spent a shit ton of time together but he was always up for that being extended indefinitely. Even luckier for him, they had been paired up in a buddy team to explore the upper floors. He had even scored a hand holding moment when Sidon led him to a room where there was some rustling, which wound up being just a raccoon. That alone made this pretty much the best night ever.

“Find anything?” Sidon asked, turning his flashlight towards Link. In the dim light, he could see he was smiling faintly. Golden eyes twinkled with mischievousness underneath a thick shock of vibrant red hair.

Smiling in return, his heart fluttering a bit more than it probably should, he replied, “Nothing of note. You?”

“There’s a nest of rats in the other room. That’s about it.”

“I hope we don’t get sick from being in here.” Link commented, sliding the concentrated beam of light around, looking for hints of black mold or other toxic filth.

“We should be fine. Though, being in all this dust probably isn’t good for us.”

They both fell silent, glancing around, taking in their surroundings then Link casually asked, trying very hard to sound like he didn’t care what the answer was going to be but really hoping it would be in the positive, “You wanna ditch and go get some drinks from the gas station?”

“Uh, yeah, that sounds good.” Sidon replied back just as casually. “Definitely down for that. This was fun at first but honestly getting a little bit bored. Plus, I’ve banged my knees on so much random fucking shit. Getting really tired of that.”

Link laughed sympathetically, “Yeah, I feel you. I’m gonna have bruises all over tomorrow. Lets ditch this dust trap.”

“Right behind you.”

“You’re in front of me, though.” Link teased, pointing the flashlight beam at the doorway.

Sidon turned, saw that he was then chuckled, “You are correct. Then,” he turned back to Link, held out a large hand and flashed a smile that was so lumniscent that Link could clearly see it in the dim light, “allow me to lead you to non-dustdom, where you no longer have to fear assault on your knees and toes.”

“Then, I shall trust the wellbeing of my shins, knees, toes and elbows to you, kind prince.” Link dramatically responded, his cheeks and the tips of his ears tingling with heat. God, he could be so goddamn charming. No, that was incorrect. He was always goddamn charming - there was never a moment when he wasn’t charming. Charming was basically his default state. Even when he was being an annoying shit, he was charming. Sweeping forward with profound, exaggerated grace, he slipped his hand into Sidon’s and let himself be lead out of the dark, musty room. Sidon’s hand was warm, a little rough, and his hand fit perfectly into it. Mental note: find more opportunities to hold hands. It would be difficult, but so totally worth it. They wove through the dark hallways, nimbly darting around various debris, and made it outside far quicker than they had gotten up to the third floor.

Pulling in a deep breath of cold, crisp, clean air into his cobwebbed lungs, Link let it out as a happy sigh. Okay, yeah, he was discovering that he truly did not like wandering around an old, moldy, dark building. Probably was not going to be doing that again in the immediate future...unless Sidon was going to be there, then yeah, he’d go without a second thought. Though, considering Sidon looked much the same as he did - relieved to be out of that dankness - he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be agreeing to anything similar either. Only way he could see them agreeing was if Riju invited them out for ghost hunting at the mall or Food Lion.

On the second floor, he could see a hint of flashlights belonging to the other groups. He briefly considered texting Zelda, but decided against it. If he did, she’d probably want in on going to the gas station since she was probably just as bored with this play of boringness and nothingness, then everyone else would most likely follow. No doubt, it would be fun, and it was probably more than a little selfish of him but right now, he wanted more time with Sidon. Zelda would understand, hopefully, maybe. Anyway, when she figured out a group was missing, he’d get a text, explain himself and promise to buy her a hot chocolate as an apology. That should be enough to get him off the hook.

Still holding onto Sidon’s hand, Link took the lead this time. Above, the moon was bright enough to light their way. Plus, he knew this side of town - cleaned the whole area for a summer as part of his probation for punching a dude in the face. Charges were absolutely shit - it had been self defense but the judge went hard on him because of his asshole father, who had more DUIs than brain cells - but he had, admittedly, enjoyed the punishment. Guys he worked with were excellent, gave him a lot of perspective on things, it was nice to be out of the house during summer break, doing some good, cleaning up the prettier areas of his industrial little town, and really, could have been worse.

Much worse since the judge originally wanted to send him to juvie. Counselor at his high school talked him out of it. Not really sure how she managed it, since that judge was an arrogant old dude who obviously thought the only way to straighten out the “rowdy young”, as he liked to refer to Link, was to scare them shitless, regardless of consequence. Missus Hye came to his rescue, got him probation time to be spent doing community service, and the subject was dropped. Judge had ended the “trial” with a stern warning to Link: get your act together and you might just be Food Lion’s employee of the month at some point.

Joke was on him, though. Four years after the fact, he was a double major junior in the local college, consistently boasted a GPA higher than a 3.5, somehow managed to support himself on two part-time jobs and without a single penny from his parents, and had an advisor who would tear down walls if it meant getting him a job straight out of college. Not to mention, he had an awesome group of friends, amazing teachers and, despite life being fucking hard most of the time, he was enjoying himself immensely. So, basically, fuck that judge. If he ever saw him again, he was going to give him the double bird.

“You okay, Link?” Sidon’s voice floated in from somewhere overtop him, wrenching him back to the present.

“Huh? Oh yeah, just thinking. Sorry.” Link laughed embarrassedly, scratching the back of his head.    

“About what?”

“Just how some piece of shit basically told me to my face that I’d never amount to anything and how I’d rub everything I’ve managed to do in his face if I saw him again.”

“If you ever do, let me know. I’ll hold him down while you shove it down his throat.”

Link flashed a thumbs up, “Of course. We’ll get Zelda involved to. She can film the entire thing.”

“You’d probably have to hold her back from doing it yourself.”

He laughed at that then nodded in agreement, “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll have to invite Mipha too. Zelda can film, Mipha can restrain her.”

“Sounds like a good time, over all.”

“Oh yeah, one for the scrapbooks.”

They both chuckled then fell silent as they closed in on the gas station. Only one in town open 24 hours, and he actually wasn’t too certain as to why. They were downtown, away from the hustle and bustle of the bars, mall, and stores. Most of the stuff around here was industrial buildings, so maybe the workers there stopped by? That was the only thing he could figure. Not that he really cared. It was open, he was thirsty so everything worked out just fine. There were no cars at the pumps, no one idling about, the whole place looked to be deserted. For a moment, he was nervous that he had been mistaken but when they got to the front, he peeked in to see an exhausted looking woman sitting behind the counter, slowly flipping through a magazine. Tugging open the door, a tingling sound ding a linging from above him, he held it open for Sidon to step through then stepped in behind him.

Inside was a gas station. Nothing really spectacular about it. Smelled faintly of bleach, floor was a bit dirty, illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights, it was standard and unextraordinary. Shooting the tired clerk a smile, and not bothered at all when she didn’t return it, Link followed Sidon over to the fridge section, where sugary drink after sugary drink were lined up. Without any hesitation, Sidon picked a cold brewed coffee. Link considered getting the same then, ultimately, picked out an energy drink he really shouldn’t be drinking this late at night but was going to anyway.

“Do you want a snack?” Sidon asked, eyeing the chip aisle.

He would, but the drink was probably all he could afford right now. Shaking his head with a smile, he quickly scurried over to the counter so he could pay before Sidon could offer. Zelda always told him that there was nothing wrong with letting others pay for things. Didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t stand it, and would actively try to avoid it as best he could. He had to take handouts in a lot of different areas so he’d prefer to keep his pride intact in some places.

Without a word, the clerk rang him out, then returned to her magazine. Floating over the door, he popped open his drink, took a huge swig, eyes falling closed in relief as the cold, smooth liquid slid down his parched throat. Future him would probably regret present him’s actions but that was future him’s problem, not his. Gasping hard as he pulled the can away, he wiped access liquid from his top lip and watched as the clerk checked Sidon out. He had grabbed a couple snacks, two small bags of chips, a packet of cookies and a candy bar.

“Do you need a bag?” The clerk asked, sounding like she was going to fall asleep at any moment.

“No, thank you.” Sidon replied, gathering up his items. “Have a nice night.”

The clerk hummed distractedly in response, eyes already back on her magazine. Joining Link over by the door, he flashed a grin, jerked his head to the great big outside, and asked, “Back to the hotel or take momentary possession of the curb?”

“Curb.” He replied, returning the grin. Leaning over, he addressed the clerk, “Is it alright if we sit outside?”

“No smoking. Don’t be loud. If someone complains, you’ll need to leave. Other than that, feel free.” She flipped a page, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and sighed.

“Thank you.” Holding the door open for Sidon once more, he followed after into the cold night, shivering slightly as the warmth of the inside was shooed away. Walking over to the far edge of the slight elevation surrounding the front of the gas station, he plopped down, took another long sip of his drink then jumped in surprise when Sidon dropped one of the bags of chips and the packet of cookies into his lap. Looking up at him in surprise as he sat down beside him, his only response was a big smile.

Frowning, he said, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” Sidon said, ripping off the plastic ring around the top of the glass bottle. Unscrewing the top, he paused for a moment to sniff then took a swig, “I wanted to.”  

“Thank you.” He said after a short pause, picking up the bag of chips. Momma didn’t raise no ungrateful shit, after all. Plus, he was hungry, so he couldn’t really complain to much. He would find some way to replay him later. There were still some homemade cookies that he had made earlier in the week left over so those could easily go to Sidon. Seemed like a good trade, and Sidon would be happy, which meant he’d be happy too.

Pulling open the bag, he started to munch down. This was good, he liked this, this was something he was fully content with - enjoying, etc and so on, the point has been gotten. Smooshed up close to Sidon, close enough that he could smell his deodorant (something manly and musky), experiencing a quiet moment of togetherness that he normally wasn’t allowed. Sure, they hung out a lot but it was usually with their group. Private moments like these were hard to catch hold of. Without a doubt, though, he was going to have to make this a more regular thing.

“We should do this more often.” Sidon commented casually, as though he was reading Link’s mind.

“We should!” Link replied, then flinched at how enthusiastic he sounded.

“I’m off from work next weekend. Do you want to come by my place? We can go out, wander around wherever then head back, watch some movies? Just me and you?”

His heart jumped with excitement. With a huge grin on his face, cheeks tingling with heat, he nodded, putting a lot of self control behind the movement so he wouldn’t start flopping around, “Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

Fucking score! Fridays for him were most concentrated in the mornings, while Saturdays were evenings heavy so he had more than enough time to hang out with Sidon. He needed to reign himself in, though. This wasn’t a date. It obviously wasn’t a date, they were just hanging out, as friends, nothing else. And that was okay. It was, regardless of what the uncontrolled, emotion driven child inside of him was wailing otherwise. And he was grateful. Grateful for the chance to spend more time with this awesome guy.

Glancing over, he took in the said awesome guy. There were a good amount of people of an array of genders at their college who would kill their own mother for a chance to spend quality time like this with Sidon. To say he was popular was a goddamn understatement. Handsome to the point that it was actually a bit irritating - muscular, dark skinned, long red hair and those intense golden eyes that were always sparkling with curiosity, warmth and excitement - smart, charming, a leader who could rally people to do just about anything. Course, Link knew the less appealing aspects of his personality (rushing forward without thinking, not taking other options in consideration, not really realizing sometimes that being positive about stuff wasn’t enough sometimes, etc), which he did personally feel honored to know.

Despite being on opposite ends of the academic spectrum with Sidon in Marine Biology and him in Agriculture, and Culinary Studies, they met up in Link’s freshman year in a random elective class, became fast friends and from there on was history. Even after he graduated in Link’s sophomore year, they remained close (helped by Sidon remaining in town, and within walking distance from Link’s dorm) and started to hang out even more after - still not as much as he would like, they were both busy people, after all, but still, good.    

From his pocket, his phone dinged. Zelda’s ringtone, someone had obviously caught onto the fact that one of the groups were missing. Tugging his phone out, he swiped until he got to the screen he wanted.

‘Where are you?’

Brushing his crumbs coated fingers off on his jeans, he typed out a reply, then decided there was a better way to convey his and Sidon’s current location. Pulling up the camera, he switched around to the front facing, leaned over until his back was resting against Sidon’s arm, held the phone up and took a quick joint selfie. Despite the abruptness of the picture taking, it ended up being a really good one. Sidon caught on quickly, and flashed a bright smile that practically twinkled. Oh yeah, that was definitely becoming his home screen wallpaper.

“Will you send me that?” Sidon asked, popping a chip into his mouth.

“Yep, will do.” Link sent it to Zelda first, accompanied with a smiley face, then to Sidon.

Sidon’s phone dinged. Mimicking Link, he brushed his fingers off, got his phone off and laughed, “I love it. Do you mind if I make it my wallpaper?”

“Only if you don’t mind if I do the same.”

“Go for it.” He replied with a laugh.

Link’s phone dinged again with another message from Zelda. He was expecting some serious scolding for running off without telling but instead, the message only contained two words. Those two words immediately made him pause, eyes going huge.

‘Tell him.’

‘No way’ He quickly replied, the pace of his heart picking up considerably. Despite Sidon not being able to see his screen from his hunched over, focused on his own phone position, he shifted away to make extra super sure that there would be no accidental seeing.

‘Tell him.’

‘Nope’

‘Link, either you tell him right now or I will call him and tell him myself.’

‘You wouldn’t dare’

The final response didn’t surprise him in the least: ‘Try me.’

He knew better than do that. Once Zelda got her mind set on something, not even the end of the world would stop her. Regardless, what she was asking him to do was impossible. A dictionary definition of a ‘bad fucking idea, do not do’ would be to do what she wanted him to. Tell Sidon...someone he was 99.99% that viewed him as a friend and friend alone, that he was in love with him, had been since they first met during his freshman year. How was he supposed to say something like that? How could he possibly risk their friendship, especially now when they had developed to a point where they were so comfortable with one another?

Not possible. He wouldn’t do it.

As though she was sensing his hesitation, Zelda sent him one more message. It consisted of two, simple words: ‘Trust me.’

His fingers curled tightly around his phone. She might not believe it, but he did trust her. There was probably only three people in the whole wide world he trusted, and she was at the very top of that very short list. Still…..still, could he really say it? Was it really alright for him to say it? There were a lot of challenges he had faced in his life, a lot of uncertain plunges into shady water that could have resulted in a broken neck but came out okay, even good sometimes, in the end. Was he brave enough to plunge into something like this, knowing full well that it could easily wind up being disastrous?

Zelda could say ‘tell him’ and ‘trust me’ all she wants but that didn’t change the fact that he could very well lose Sidon if he told him. Rejection he could take. He could handle Sidon saying he didn’t feel the same, that was just the way of fucking life. It sucked. It definitely sucked. Did that make it unbearable? Hell, no - he’d take the negative, get over it, move on, suck it up, etc etc, point fully gotten. It was Sidon getting grossed out, disgusted, uncomfortable by the thought that a friend being in love with him that he couldn’t stand the thought of. That would drive a wedge between them, they’d drift apart - he didn’t want that. He’d rather stay silent then have that happen!

But...could he really stand to stay quiet? For years, he had been hiding it. Swallowing it down so that Sidon wouldn’t notice how stupid he made him. How much longer? How much longer could he hold it in? How much longer could he deny it? How much longer was he going to keep asking himself those dumb questions? He did love Sidon, he loved him so much, from his charming ways to his obnoxious habits. Could he? Could he do it?”

“Link? You okay?”

“I love you.” The words were out before he could stop them. Realization hit him a split second after, his brain almost on a delay. Every muscle froze, his heart did a dramatic faint inside his chest, swooning over like a traumatized southern belle, cold dripped sickeningly into his stomach and he was pretty sure he might vomit up all the sugar and carbs he just gobbled up. Screwed up, he just screwed up so much. His thoughts had been so preoccupied with telling Sidon that it had just come out, spilled out, like fucking word vomit.  

“I love you, too.”

“...huh?” Link slowly raised his head to look over at Sidon. The words were in his ears, but he couldn’t fully comprehend them. Was he hallucinating in a moment of stress? That did seem possible.

There wasn’t a hint of anything negative on his handsome face. In fact, Link was surprised to find he looked...happy. Incredibly happy, even. There was a pleased glimmer in his golden eyes. Strong lips were pulled into a soft, sweet smile that made his face even more gorgeous. Reaching up, he brushed the backs of his fingers along the curve of Link’s cheek, sending a pleasant tingle over the surface of his skin, then tucked a length of blond hair behind his ear. Okay, yeah, definitely not the reaction he had been expecting but definitely the one he had dreamed of. Not mad, farthest thing away from mad, that was good. No, not good. Amazing. It was amazing.

Breathless glee flooded into his chest, bringing with it a supreme warmth that drove away all hints of cold, “You aren’t mad?”

Sidon gave him a confused look, “Why would I be mad?”

Nervously playing with his fingertips, he said, “I thought you’d be against it or like, disgusted or something…”

Glancing up, he found Sidon’s confused expression had morphed into an odd one. He still looked thoroughly confused, but there was a strangeness along with that. Opening his mouth, he started to say something, thought better of it, clicked it close, knitted his brows together then let out a brief chuckle and said, “Link, we’ve been dating for a month now.”

“...huh?” Now it was Link’s turn to look confused. Dating? Them? They had been dating? Since when? Well, Sidon said a month but he didn’t remember ever agreeing to something like that. Seemed like a kind of hugely important thing that he wouldn’t forget. He was swamped with work and school, but that didn’t mean his brain had stopped working.

A disbelieving smile spread across Sidon’s face, “Did you not realize?”

“No, I thought we were just like two buds, hanging out! We’re dating?!”

“Remember when I asked you out? We went to the movies together? Got dinner?”

Yes, he did remember that, it had been a great time, but, “I thought we were just hanging out as friends! I didn’t know it was a date! Wait, how did you not realize that I didn’t know?!”

Sidon stared at him for a moment then burst out laughing. Clapping a hand over his forehead, he yelped, “I thought you just wanted to take things slow!”

“But, you genuinely thought we were dating?”

“I did!” He chortled, coughed hard then sighed, shaking his head slowly, “Well, this explains a lot.”

“Are you mad?” Link asked again, struggling to comprehend the whole thing. Dating, they had been dating, and he hadn’t even been fucking aware of it. How dense was him?! Then again, he couldn’t recall Sidon ever saying that he liked him - well, no, that was actually incorrect. When thought back, he could remember three times where, very clearly, Sidon had conveyed to him that he did, in fact, like him. But his gay, dumbass hadn’t caught on. He was never going to live this down. Once Zelda found out, he would never hear the end of it.

“I’m not mad. Just surprised, and a little baffled.” Giggling, Sidon tucked a strand of red hair behind his hair, “So, I was thinking we were already established, and I’m guessing you’ve been struggling with trying to confess to me. Is that correct?”

Blushing a bit, Link nodded.

Sidon thought for a moment then continued, “Alright, lets start over.” Clearing his throat, he shifted around until he was fully facing Link. Reaching forward, he took Link’s hands into his own, looked him straight in the eyes, and smiled widely, “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Returning the grin with a goofy one of his own, Link nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, I do.”

“I love you, Link.”

Hearing those words, it was just as amazing as he thought it would be. Letting out a long, shaky breath, he squeezed Sidon’s hands, “I love you, too.”

“Can I kiss you?”

The question startled him since he wasn’t expecting such a quick development but nodded again nonetheless. There were a lot of things he wanted; right at the top was a good ole kiss from Sidon, who was now, officially, his boyfriend! His heart practically sung at the thought. Giddiness whirled around wildly inside his mind, spinning around and around like an out of control merry-go-round. Excitement thundered through his veins as Sidon slowly leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Five inches, four inches, three, two, one then, finally, their lips were pressed together.

Breathing out sharply through his nose, a jolt racing through his body, sending tingles weaving along the lines of his nerves, Link unconsciously pulled his hands away from Sidon’s so he could reach up to settle them on his broad, strong shoulders. Underneath his palms, he could feel the thick, powerful muscles. Against his lips, Sidon’s were a little cold, firm but somehow, remarkably, soft and supple. They felt incredible. Breathing in, he was able to pull in Sidon’s scent: the manly deodorant, a small hint of piney shampoo and a unique tang underneath that he knew was uniquely Sidon. With his hands freed, Sidon wrapped his arms around Link’s waist, tugging him even closer. Warmth soaked into his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Hazily, he wished that Sidon would let his hands roam, to touch him all over, to spread that heat to every inch of his body.  

His first kiss, and it was with someone he absolutely, one hundred percent adored. Two minutes ago, he hadn’t even thought this would be possible. Now, he was fucking kissing Sidon, who was now his boyfriend, who, admittedly, thought they had been dating for a month while he hadn’t been aware of that at all, but still! Boyfriend, together, love, his brain repeated those words continuously as their lips lightly, gently slide over one another. Looked like there was some merit in jumping head first into shady water because, even with the risk of breaking something, the end result could be kissing a person you’ve been in love with for three years, and who loves you back.

“I’ll make a deal with you.” Sidon breathed, moving back just an inch, close enough that their lips were still brushing together.

“What?” Link asked, breathless, a bit dizzy and happier than he could ever remember being.

“Move in with me, and I won’t tell Zelda or Mipha about any of this.”

Link laughed, “Blackmailing, are you?”

“Just using the information I have been given.” Sidon replied with a teasing smile, which sent a jolt of heat racing down Link’s spine.

“Uh, that’s blackmail.”

Sidon shrugged, “Blackmail, persuasion, call it what you like.” Leaning forward, he bumped their foreheads together, never breaking eye contact with him, “Move in with me, okay? I’ve wanted to live together for over a year now.”

“Only if you let me pay half the rent.” Link tried to negotiate but Sidon was immediately shaking his head.

“Nope. However, I will compromise. No paying for rent, but I would like to eat your cooking.”

Okay, yeah, that was a compromise he could get behind. Cooking was fun, cooking for Sidon was even better. Course, if Sidon insists on him not paying rent, then he was going to insist that he did more around the apartment then just cook. He’d be a goddamn maid if need be. Regardless, that was an offer he was most definitely going to take. Pushing back against his now boyfriend, he heaved an overly suffering sigh, slumped his shoulders in mock defeat and said mournfully, unable to keep the smile off his face, which didn’t really help the atmosphere he was trying to get across, “I suppose that’d work.”

“Good.” Sidon planted a quick kiss on his forehead then leaned back with a bright grin, “So, just so we’re clear: we are dating?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re moving in with me?”

“Yes.”

“And you love me?”

“I do.” The tips of his ears were burning now, but he could hardly feel it over the happiness flowing through him.

“Good.” Sidon leaned forward for another quick kiss, “I love you, too. Spend the night at my place, okay?”

Without waiting for a response, Sidon stood, held out his hands for Link to take then tugged him up when he did so. Feeling like he was walking on sunshine, like the world beneath him had turned into clouds, Link held onto enough rationality to pick up his trash, not wanting anyone to have to clean after him. Halfway convinced he was in a dream, he let Sidon lead him just as he had before, tossing their garbage away in a local trash can as they head back towards the hotel. Boyfriends, they were now boyfriends, love fulfilled, no rejection. At the moment, he couldn’t quite believe it. However, the next morning, when he woke up next Sidon, wrapped up in his warmth and scent, then, he was sure it would finally hit and he might do something embarrassing. In fact, he knew he was going to something embarrassing and it didn’t matter an inch. Sidon was his boyfriend. He was Sidon’s boyfriend. They loved each other, in love with one another. That was all he could ever care about.

He would need to thank Riju for inviting him out on a ghost hunt. It turned out to be one of the best nights of his life.  

#loz #breath of the wild #prince sidon #sidlink

[tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land]

Some “life” updates stuff--gonna be under a Read More not because it’s like sad or anything, but it’s long and I’m sure nobody wants my long aimless rambling cluttering up their dash lol

Anyhoo, sorry for the drastic shift in interests lately. If I’m being honest, I kiiiiiinda ran out of steam with pokemon. I’ve been in the fandom for almost two years in a row now, which is probs the longest sitting I’ve ever been in just 1 singular fandom, but like. I just kinda lost motivation and interest. I’ve been running low on ideas since the beginning of the year, and that’s taken a toll on my art and motivation. I fell behind on the show (last episode I watched was when Team Rocket gets their Z-Ring, and even then, I STILL haven’t even watched it with the subs), and I haven’t kept up on anyone’s fanfics for the past few months, of which I especially apologize for.

And for reasons unknown (coughdepressionandjealousyandspiteandeverythingelsethat’swrongwithmecough) I just felt like I had no reason to continue the stuff I was working on. I had a couple fanfics I was writing, one of which I actually finished and just needed to edit, but I lost all interest in them completely when I realized there was really no reason for them to exist. Y’all ain’t missing much by me not posting them--they ain’t that great, so don’t worry. But yeah--that’s a thing.

Fandom and interest shifts always cause a bunch of emotional turmoil for me. It shouldn’t; it’s a stupid thing to be upset over, I’m aware; but it does. I lose interest in doing anything related to my current fandom, but I feel guilty doing anything for my desired fandom, and it’s just a big hot sticky mess.

Y’all have probably noticed, but my interests have shifted mainly to Zelda: BOTW and My Hero Academia (and a wee bit of Aggretsuko). I’ve been avoiding a lot of new things because I’m always terrified of fandom shifts, but with this new content, I’m kinda able to expand my horizons and just draw new things and characters and indulge in different stories and stuff? If that makes sense. My mom always criticizes me for drawing the same 3-4 characters over and over again, and I get annoyed by that, but at the same time she’s right?? I burned myself out basically is what I’m saying, and it feels nice indulging in something new.

But uuuuuuuuuhhh yeah. BOTW and MHA and Aggretsuko are good. Y’all should check them out if you haven’t already. Expect possible content from me in the future? Maybe? Hopefully? If these things ain’t your cup of tea, and you need something tagged for whatever reason, feel free to let me know. Again, sorry about the change of interests.

I’m currently trying to make buttons with the new button maker I got for my birthday. I’ve already made Team Rocket buttons, and I’m working on making BOTW ones right now (currently I’ve made designs for Link, Zelda, and the 4 champions, and I hope to soon create ones for the New champions, Kass, and... Paya? Gerudo Link? Not sure about who to give the last spot to, but I’ll figure someone out--feel free to give suggestions if you have any). And hopefully when I get motivated enough I can make some MHA ones too. Once I figure out how sales work (also do y’all know what’s the best place to sell buttons?), I’ll work on selling those.

I’ve also been toiling around with the idea of opening commissions. But because I’m being a Big Dumb with insecurity and anxiety I haven’t actually done that yet. It’s mainly because I feel like I haven’t been arting very good recently? Tho that could just be because I don’t have any big plans and I’m doodling aimlessly--and I’m really bad at just doodling aimlessly. Regardless, I wanna art good again before I open up commissions.

Also, I feel like I’ve just been especially silent recently? To basically everyone?? I don’t mean for that to happen, and trust me when I say it is literally all me just being a Big Fuck, and nothing to do with you. I apologize for that; I don’t know what it is--maybe just my waning interests just kinda screwing with me, maybe anxiety. Who knows. But I’m sorry.

What else...... Um. I rearranged my room after having an anxiety attack about spiders, and now I’m not living in my closet anymore? My desk used to be in my closet, and that’s where I worked, but now it’s out in the open and feels very exposing because I’m not in my corner anymore but also I have ROOM NOW? Feels good but also bad. I don’t know why I’m bringing this up. Guess it kinda just feels nice to finally clear the shit out of my room and have new space to work in.

Anyway, tl;dr: Not creating Pokemon stuff right now because I’m burnt out, BOTW and MHA are good, buttons and commissions sometime soon??? Hopefully????? Sorry I’ve been a reclusive fuck and haven’t been interacting with anyone, and uuuuuuhhhhhhh depression and anxiety can go suck my big fat wiggly dick

Anyways, hope y’all are having a nice day. You guys are great and I love you very much. Sorry for this inconvenience

#holy hell that got long #literally all of this is just pointless rambling #feel free to skip to the end to the tl;dr #or feel free to go about your day #whatever floats your goat #have a nice day #and week for that matter #i'll shut up now

[rangergirl3]

I was tagged by @callaeidae3 - Thanks for tagging me! :D :D

I’ll tag @darkstrangevirgilanxiboi @haleykim84 @arrowcomix and @fractalabomination - but feel free to join in if you like! :-)

Relationship status: Married (We did actually get each other knives for our wedding day, which was fun :D)

Favourite colours: Deep sapphire blue (like deep clean water), Storm-cloud grey (something about oncoming storm clouds just make me feel alive)

Lipstick or chapstick: I rarely wear makeup but I do enjoy putting on lipstick every once in a while. (I get to imitate Ursula from the Little Mermaid and everything, lol).

Three favourite foods: Dark chocolate, freshly steamed rice, and chicken. It’s so delicious. 

Song stuck in my head: The Other Side (from The Greatest Showman soundtrack) and Something Wild (by Lindsey Stirling)

Last song I listened to: Overcome by James Paget (here’s the youtube link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QX9AmVi1_Ww) 

Last movie I watched: Get Smart on Netflix (it’s really funny)

Top three TV shows: Voltron: Legendary Defender, My Hero Academia, and Parks and Recreation

Books I’m currently reading: I just finished reading the book ‘The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society’, and I loved it. It’s about a woman author  and it’s set right after the end of War World II in England. The manner in which the authoress writes is great, and the pacing and wide assortment of characters is phenomenal. I highly recommend the book to anyone who’s looking for something to read. <3

Last thing I googled: Local weather (I don’t do well in extreme heat so I try to avoid the worst of it whenever I can. I sort of become a half-vampire during the summer, I avoid the direct sunlight so much).

Time: About 10pm local time. I just got back from visiting friends in a different time-zone, so I’m still wide awake.

How many blankets do you sleep in: Two to start off with, but I usually end up reaching out to the bedside table and grabbing one blanket during the night while still completely asleep so I guess it’s technically three, lol. I wake up and I’m curled like a cat inside this massive nest of cozy blankets. 

Dream trip: Maybe to a bed and breakfast near the sea-side. It’d be quite a trip to get to the sea-side but that would be lovely. :-) Maybe Ireland or something. <3

Anything you really want: I’m on daily meds for complex PTSD (formative years are apparently not supposed to be inundated with brainwashing, abuse, and neglect by your biological parents), and I’d really like to get to a point where I feel completely comfortable not needing the meds daily to manage my anxiety and depression. However I am in a much safer and happier place than I’ve ever been before, and that’s incredible. :-) My husband and I are safe, happy, and far away from my biological parents. (They are, in modern terms, ‘crey-crey’.)

But I do still wish I didn’t have so much accumulated unhealthy habits from my past. Physical, Mental, Emotional habits. It’s kinda daunting. (A lot of it I can manage, but it can get rather...well, exhausting.) One of the more...shall I say, spectacularly bad things I took away from my childhood was that ignoring basic and/or heightened pain signals meant that ‘not going to the doctor means it saves the parents money so the kid should just deal with the pain, it’s not that bad’. Prizes to anyone who see where that mentality leads to. The mentality is hard to break, though.

Once (as an adult) I fell down some concrete stairs and hurt my back but since I could still walk I figured I was fine. (I was not fine. Turns out my spine began to go out of place, or at least a disc did. Maybe more than one? Either way, it was not an experience I’d recommend.)

A few years after the fall and I didn’t even realize I’d lost about 60% of sensation and motion capability from my waist down. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not impervious to pain. I knew my back hurt like a bitch and I couldn’t move around as easily as before the fall. I just tuned it out because I’d been taught that my discomfort’ wasn’t worth bothering anyone about. *makes mental note to give parents the finger next time they come to a family gathering*

But yeeah, I didn’t go see a doctor until one day I literally could not put my socks on by myself. Thankfully my super-sensible husband helped me and then we went to a chiropractor and I’m fine now, but yikes. Realizing I could literally not tell that I needed medical attention was (and still is) pretty freaky. I’m much better about it now, though, I swear. <3 <3 <3 I use pain meds when I need them and everything! :D :D

[tricksheart]

Ask my muse extremely personal questions. Does he ever regret becoming a Phantom Thief?

Akira takes a deep breath and thinks about the question. It’s a question that he’s been trying to mull over for several months. But thinking about this is exactly how he actually became a phantom thief. There was the self doubt about saving the woman from Shido. It was those ‘what ifs’ that made him fail to recognize the virus app installed on his phone. Being lost in thought is what guided him to Kamoshida’s palace by mistake, along with Ryuji. Maybe if he wasn’t such a scatterbrain or a hot-headed hero wannabe then none of this would had happen.

But if there wasn’t the opportunity for him, Akira wouldn’t have met Ryuji, Morgana ( even if the damn cat wouldn’t let him stay up past 9 in the evening), and everyone else ( even Goro Akechi to an extent ). He wouldn’t have the strength of bonds or even true friendship. Or find that special someone since he quickly accepted the fact that no one could return his feelings of love. Akira felt the feeling of being swallowed up by the universe, not finding a purpose in life. There’s also the creeping fact that he could had easily ended up on the wrong path and actually have his life ruined beyond repair or redemption. Akira was at one point spiraling out of control with hidden anger and disgust on how society had become so warped. Not being able to do anything. Powerlessness. Despair. The cold hard TRUTH of reality. Many things plagued his mind.That no matter what you do, you can’t help or save them.

Ironically, to him, becoming a phantom thief helped save HIM, him of all people. Did becoming a thief hurt him? Sure it did and it still does. Doing the right thing all the time doesn’t always mean that you still can avoid making huge mistakes and get hated for it. After all, no good deed goes unpunished. Sometimes you got to take risks. If you don’t then nothing will change because you fail to do something about it. Akira had his answer. Deep down he knew becoming a phantom thief was the right choice.

“I’ve had time to think this through and my answer is this. Without a doubt, no. I do not regret becoming a phantom thief”.  

Hobbies

Even before being forcibly relocated to Tokyo, Akira has always been a video game type of person. Not that he didn’t do any types of sports in Sumaru City but it was more comfortable just to chill in his room playing an adventure game ( Legend of Link ) or any type of genre the games had to offer. Ironically, the mystery games were one area Akira didn’t spend too much time into. Sometimes he wishes that he spent more involvement with those ones but that’s in the past.

Actually, it’s the racing games that he’s played that saves him when asked to drive the Morgana bus. But he gets backlashed by his friends for admitting this. Ann downright says ‘seriously’ followed by ‘I guess it’s better than nothing’. Which hurts him a lot because to Akira, those racing games are hella realistic. You can even die or dive off a cliff if you aren’t watching what you are doing. It’s like a simulator or practice for the real thing. He’s better at driving than Makoto who drives like a crazy person or a mom trying to get to fast food place in a hurry for her kids.

Akira also likes stealth/rhythm games that tests your patience. This is a double edge sword because he tends to become impatient as the time moves along. This can be seen while in the dungeons when a shadow takes a long ass time going down the hallway. That majority of all danger situations comes from is Akira’s lack of patience. Those games he plays that make him quite impulsive sometimes.

Music

Akira has a wide range of music taste. Mainly because he doesn’t like to be tied down to just one genre. There are a few that test his patience; like SCREAMO ( Akira wants to at least understand what the words are actually saying. He hates gibberish with a passion) and Opera ( because in his mind, only super high intelligent bad guys have Opera playing at their house/lair ).

He listens to music that moves him on that part of the day. If he’s in a low mood, he listens to some alternative rock or pop ( society teases him because most of these are labeled as being ‘emo’). If he feels calm, he picks a more low-key beat and chorus. Of course, if he’s in Joker mode, he tends to pick songs that are a little more cocky/assertive. Everything involves his mood as he’s very emotional on the inside despite his loner-cat outside.

Akira’s really fond of parody songs. Not only does he think they are very creative and funny but he’s seen how much effort has been put into the lyrics and music videos. That people sat down and put a lot of love and sarcasm into making light of another song. The wanted people to smile and laugh at something so ridiculous that they forgot to be sad, even for a split second. That being said, he’s a big fan of American parody singer/video maker Weird Al. It’s thanks to him that he’s even able to speak a few words in English. 

Assuming Akira doesn’t hang out with somebody or go to Mementos, what is his usual routine when he gets home from school?

THIS WILL HAVE A LOT TO DO WITH MY OWN GAME-PLAY, JUST A FAIR WARNING.

Usually in the afternoon, Akira visits either two places, instead of wandering around aimlessly as he did when he first moved to Tokyo. The arcade because the boy sure does loves the vidya gaimes and button mashing. He’s quite good at the rhythm games like ‘Finished Diva Bland’ ( Project Diva Tone ) and of course the shooter game the ‘King’ taught him how to play. And Akira likes and enjoys being there. Sure it’s noisy but no one really gives him a second look while being focused on playing games. Their eyes are more prone to not give him dirty looks, unlike school where it’s undeniably crushing. He feels safe here.

Akira also goes to the batting cages. Not as frequent as the arcade because using the facility costs more than the games and he’s really frugal on money because of the things he has to purchase for palace and dungeon explorations. Hitting the targets with a metal bat oddly feel quite calming, unlike when Akira’s in the palaces when he’s cutting demons up with his knife. Maybe the loud ‘kawack’ sound when he hits the baseball is so aesthetically pleasing that he stops being so wound up all the time. It’s the case even when in battles that he has to constantly remind himself to calm down. That he’s on edge. Seeing the progress he has made when all five targets are hit really feels satisfying. Plus, the one baseball that goes through the metal roof and into the day’s sky is really hilarious to him. Although, Akira has to apologize profusely when that happens. He doesn’t know his own strength at times.

At night before returning to Leblanc, he visits the local bathhouse down the road. Soaking in the tub is really relaxing for him and once again, he really doesn’t get a lot of looks. Of course, there’s his small tattoo located just in the inside of his hip that gives him a little trouble because tattoos are still frowned upon in Japan, especially the older generation which frequent the bathhouse a lot. But Akira usually just goes look for an opportunity to make sure no one really sees it. Being discreet about it is key. He usually doesn’t stay in the tub too long but the rainy days that he visits makes him more rebellious than on non-rainy days. This results in him either getting his ass kicked from the intense steam and dehydration or him getting really refreshed looking from all of the good minerals found in the water. The boy does need to keep up his handsome features. His debonair charm max stat came from spending a lot of days here. Even though the real objective has been completed, he still can breathe deeply and melt all the stress away. Plus, Morgana actually compliments him and worries that he might catch a cold. Much better than being told to ‘go the fuck to sleep mr. krabs’ any day.  

💗 HAS MY MUSE EVER BEEN IN LOVE?

Going to say no before the whole incident with getting arrested. But a lot of things have changed for Akira during his time spent in the city. After that cutscene with Ann, there’s been a lot of incidents that suggest he going through being in love. I think in the past, Akira didn’t see the point of being in love. Probably thought the idea was stupid as hell. He has been called ‘that punk’ by Sojiro so I can base his attitude on subjects based on that alone. It’s really escalated by the time he meets Haru, being in love that is. The line he shouted during the school festival wasn’t just something he said without meaning behind it. He feels like he’s always loved her even though he only met her a few weeks prior in the Hawaii trip. 

💯 WHAT IS MY MUSE’S IDEAL DATE?

Inviting them to a heist. lol. His ideal date would probably be where is significant other wants to go. If they want to go to a library, away he goes. He’s not picky with the location. It’s the bonds and memories that are more important to him. If the other person is having fun and really enjoying themselves, well, that’s all he really needs. Akira’s pretty adaptable to situations.

❤: does my muse consider themselves a romantic?          

Akira’s emotional range is quite wide so answering that question, is a big yes. But that part of him is kept locked up very well. He’s seen what anger and passion to do the right thing has done to his life so he keeps everything under lock and key. But you can see his emotions fly through the roof when Akira first sees the plane fly over towards Hawaii.

How he’s swept up by intense emotion. You can see in the eyes how much romanticism there is. There’s times where he’s glad that people interrupt him during these moments. To put the mask back on that they will never know just how he feels with overwhelming situations.  

#long post: tw #[ we call them TRICKSTERS. HEADCANON ] #reworking my old hc's from my old blog and making them shorter because the tag dump ones were so long to read;;